


At Least we Stole the Show

by heartbrokenhaz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Prank Wars, Some football!Louis, Some lifeguard!Harry, Some lovin, Some pining, Some sadness, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbrokenhaz/pseuds/heartbrokenhaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh Louis how cute, it’s not like I tricked you into coming to this festival because I knew Harry was performing here and I promised that Clean Bandit would be here even though they’re not.” Louis added imitating Zayn as best as possible.</p><p>Or the one where Louis and Harry are prank war enemies, hate each other's guts and their 3 best friends will do anything to make sure "Larry Stylinson" live happily ever after</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Least we Stole the Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Somewhere_Only_Larry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somewhere_Only_Larry/gifts).



> This fic was amazingly fun to write. I sort of took the plot I was given and ran with it...... Thank you to all my AMAZING betas: Clair, Leslye, Lauren, Megan, Kiya, and Baeloves1D (name not provided) this fic wouldn't be what it is today without all of you. To whoever is reading this, hope you enjoy and happy reading!
> 
> (this is a work of fiction, I do not know these characters on a personal level, nor am I associated with them in any way, etc. etc.)

***August, 2000***

“Harry, this isn’t a good idea.”

“Seriously Liam, I broke my arm because he pushed me off a slide, he deserves this, just help me get this window open.”

Liam sighed in defeat as he helped Harry open the window and watched as Harry slid into the room, a light thud sounding when he hit the floor.

“Pass me the scissors Li, we need to do this quick before Louis gets home from football practice.” Harry whispered as he stood up and dusted himself off, his green cast shining in the light of the afternoon sun.

“He doesn’t deserve this Harry, we’re little kids not criminals.” Liam passed the scissors over anyways.

Harry rolled his eyes and groaned as he grabbed the scissors and made his way towards a green and blue twin bed. Picking up the light brown teddy bear resting happily against a pillow, Harry delicately cut the arm off the bear. Deciding he was happy with his work, Harry set the bear and its amputated arm back down on the bed. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled piece of construction paper. He smoothed the paper out and placed it next to the bear triumphantly.

Liam already knew what the note said, Harry had made him read it beforehand to check for any spelling mistakes.

 _You break my arm, I break Mr. Cuddles’ arm_  
_Two can play at this game_  
_xx H_  


***Present day***

School is over. Finally.

Harry has the next two months of his life to do whatever he pleases. He can go on a 1,100-mile solo hike with only his backpack and wits like that woman in _Wild._ Or maybe finally get around to learning how to knit. He can even start collecting weird dolls like the person living across him and Liam in their flat complexe.

He knows, however, that the summer will most likely be spent in random coffee shops sitting on a stool singing as people try to wake up in the morning, or playing Fifa with Niall for 10 hours straight, drinking Red Bull can after can until they can’t hold the controllers because their hands are shaking so badly.

At least half of the summer will also most definitely be dedicated to pranking Louis.

Harry doesn’t know how a revenge prank 14 years ago turned into a full-fledged prank war but Harry isn’t complaining. Pranking is the only sport he’s good at, besides golf and the occasional tennis match.

He also doesn’t know how his prank-hate relationship with Louis turned into something Liam, Niall and Zayn found cute and “romantic.”

Sure Louis would leave the occasional cheeky comment on a piece of paper after sneaking into Harry’s room to prank him, his signature L at the bottom.

And sure Louis was attractive, all curves and caramel skin and feathery soft hair and a bum that Harry would kill for. But that didn’t mean anything.

Harry was a respectable 19 year old adult who could handle his sexual frustration.

That’s exactly what Harry was doing, handling his frustration by heading to Niall’s flat to ask him for chili sauce.

A short walk through the complex and Harry’s staring at Niall’s overly familiar door. The quarter-sized chip by the door knob where Niall got so drunk he missed the lock with his key. The small stain near the top right corner from one of Harry’s first college pranks earlier that year – a ketchup and mustard gun.

3 knocks later and Niall is opening the door, clad in just his boxers.

“Put some clothes on and give me the hottest chili sauce you got.”

“Well good morning to you too honey muffin.” Niall quips as he side checks Harry, his bright green ‘I’m feeling lucky’ boxers hanging loosely around his hips.

“This honey muffin is about to hurt you if you don’t give him your chili sauce right now.” Harry hisses as he begins to open random cabinets, pushing aside stale cereal and boxes of crackers.

Niall proceeds to ignore Harry and drop onto his beer stained couch, sighing loudly.

“Stop being a piss nugget and come talk to Uncle Niall. I want to know how your first year of college went.”

After months of deliberating, Harry chose to attend a small school in Doncaster. The college is located near the neighborhood he grew up in, class sizes are small, the flat complex he lives in is filled to the brim with other uni students, and it’s the school Liam began attending last year.

Sure classes were boring, especially because Harry is majoring in business, but his minor in music theory and composition made it all worth it. Meeting Niall and Zayn definitely helped too.

Harry met Niall for the first time on the first day of school. Because Niall was a grade above Harry, he believed that all the freshman in his flat complex should receive an initiation. That’s exactly why as Harry was unpacking his clothes he witnessed Niall running nude through the building throwing skittles everywhere while shouting “taste the rainbow ya mofos. ”

When Harry ran into Niall the next day, he pointed out that Niall had the whitest ass Harry had ever seen and Niall laughed so hard he decided that Harry was a keeper.

After Harry told Niall that he was looking for an artist to design a piece he could use as cover art for a demo CD he wanted to make, Niall pointed Harry towards Zayn. Sure enough, Zayn pulled out his sketch pad and a week later had 7 designs for Harry to look through. Not only was Zayn talented and creative, but he was also Louis’ roommate and best friend, which meant that he would help Harry prank Louis, helping him get an upperhand.

Zayn often compared the five boy’s friendships to a giant family with divorced parents because Liam, Zayn, and Niall were all friends with both Louis and Harry; but Louis and Harry tended to avoid each other unless they were pranking each other or passing snide but slightly suggestive remarks back and forth.

“You know Niall, I think my favorite part of college so far has been when you tried to brew your own beer. I can’t believe you were actually going to call it ‘Irish Piss’.”

Niall laughs, gasping for air, “Beer totally looks like piss thought, don’t fight it.”

Harry sighs and rolls his eyes as he moves onto the fridge, continuing to search for the chili sauce.

“I think my favorite part was when Louis filled all your cabinets with plastic balls after he learned you were gay.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how he didn’t figure out sooner, we’ve lived in the same town ever since I can remember” Harry argues, finally finding the chili sauce buried under a pile of take-out boxes in the fridge.

“Maybe he was just waiting until you got old enough to appreciate ball puns.” Niall giggles as Harry grabs the chili sauce.

“Well Ni, it was great reflecting with you but I really must be off, thanks for the chili sauce.” Harry twirls the sauce bottle around in his hand before hastily making his way out the door.

“I’m going to need that back you wanker! Why do you need with it anyways?” Niall bellows after Harry.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait until Louis gets old enough to appreciate heat puns.” Harry shouts over his shoulder as he watches Niall’s door close slowly behind him.

*~*

Louis wakes up and his mouth is on fire.

Reaching instinctively for the Barbie water bottle Daisy gave him as a birthday present last year, he curses loudly when his hand is met with nothing but a slip of paper.

“That stupid plastic bitch is out to get me, probably because I had a crush on her man in the third grade” Louis mutters as he throws the slip of paper to the side, he’ll deal with it after he gets Satan to stop having a barbeque in his mouth.

Falling blindly out of bed, Louis stumbles around his room in the dark, all his senses on fire.

Somehow Louis manages to make it to the fridge, reaching for a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream, tearing the lid off and starting to use his hand to shovel handfuls into his mouth.

As sweet, cold, mint-chocolate flavored relief fills Louis’ mouth, Zayn sits up groggily in bed and wipes the sleep out of his eyes.

Louis turns slowly towards Zayn, his mouth overflowing with ice cream and the light from the mini fridge illuminating his face.

Louis attempts to explain his current situation, but he’s cut off by Zayn slamming his pillow into his face.

“You better have a great reason for waking me up at 3 in the morning on the first day all year I’ve been allowed to sleep in.” Zayn snarls, staggering out of bed to turn the lights on.

“I call bullshit Zayn we both know you failed your sculpting class because you didn’t want to wake up at 9 in the morning to get to class on time.” Louis states as the harsh artificial light fills the room. Louis is about to add that Zayn might not be so tired if he hadn’t stayed out all night with his mysterious writing buddy, but he’s stopped in his tracks when he notices a giant H written on his wall with chili sauce.

“That little bastard, I swear to god the next thing that’s going is his head of curls.” Louis snarles, his mouth still a burning reminder of Harry’s sinister prank.

“Oi, shut up Tommo, you would never hurt those curls, you know you want to run your hand through them as Harry slowly kisses down -.”

“I’m not the one who kissed Liam and then avoided him for a month.” Louis retorts. He knows he’s hitting a soft spot, but if Zayn was going to bring up the fact that Louis might hate Harry less than he’s letting on, then all guy code rules no longer apply. Honestly, Louis was just trying to maintain his Disney villain persona, if he wasn’t the evil one, then Zayn would have to take over that position and everyone knows Zayn couldn’t muster up enough hate to hurt a fly. Zayn should be thanking him.

Zayn ignores Louis, his face flushing a bright pink as he grabs a roll of paper towels and a damp sponge and throws them at Louis.

“Shut up and clean this mess up you arse hole.” Zayn commands as he begins to walk around the room tidying everything Louis had flung across the room. Louis didn’t know why Zayn was being so short tempered, Louis was the one that had to experience Satan and the Human Torch’s love child threw a college frat party in his mouth.

Louis presses the sponge hard against the wall and watches as the water leaking from the sponge drips down the wall, taking the dried chili sauce with it. Over the past 14 years Louis thought it was fun seeing how him and Harry slowly got better at pranking each other, and along the way learned more about each other.

Louis knows that Harry goes down to different coffee shops from 7-9 every morning playing cover songs and selling CDs for 5 dollars each out of his guitar case. Harry spends the entire day golfing with Niall every first Sunday of the month and he always let Niall win so he wouldn’t throw a fit on the ride home. When it’s nice outside Harry sits in the park with his moleskin journal to write poetry and song lyrics, sometimes dragging Niall along to help him with the melody of a song.

All of these small tidbits Louis had picked up over the years as he learned the best times to sneak into Harry’s room to prank him, and even sometimes; although no one can prove he did it, snoop through Harry’s stuff. For some unknown reason Louis stored all these small facts in the back of his mind, not for leverage, not for blackmail, not to use in any way against Harry, but just because it made Harry seem closer to him, more familiar.

“Did you read this note?” Zayn’s voice breaks through the trance Louis’ rhythmic scrubbing had placed him in. In his hand Zayn held a piece of neon pink scrap paper – the remains of a flier advertising an end of school party. Louis assumes it must be the slip of paper that he had brushed aside in the search for his water bottle.

Curious, Louis questions, “No, I didn’t get around to it, what does it say?”

Clearing his throat, Zayn begins to read aloud, “Roses are red, violets are blue, this chili sauce is hot, but not as hot as you xx H.” Zayn’s fake aura of sophistication begins to falter as he starts to laugh loudly, gasping for air in between chuckles.

Louis is used to this. It became habit for Harry and Louis to pair their pranks with notes containing banter back and forth, like messed up pen pals.

No one had to know that one of Louis’ turn ons was good banter. No one had to know that Louis spent longer thinking about what he was going to write Harry than the actual prank the note would accompany.

Zayn caught his breath, panting heavily.

“Wait until Liam and Niall hear about this. You two are so whipped for each other and you don’t even know it yet.”

*~*

Zayn  
haz just left a note for lou comparing him to the hotness of chili sauce

Liam  
it took him 30 minutes and a thesaurus to come up with that gem

Niall  
we need to start putting plan get-louis-and-harry-to-shag-and-then-get-married into action. Harry is volunteering at camp Lakewood next weekend, right?

Liam  
yeah, he’s helping set up their music room

Zayn  
i actually got dragged into helping him

Niall  
zayn, pretend you have something more important to do and make louis cover for you at the camp

Zayn  
i don’t get how that’ll help the plan

Zayn  
oh wait i get it now

Zayn  
niall you are a genius

*~*

Louis can’t believe Zayn would do this to him. Forcing him stop watching dance moms in order to drive to some camp to unload boxes _because I need to go see my mother, can’t you do this one simple thing for me,_ wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was the fact that Zayn threatened to show the whole world the drunken video of Louis singing about Harry’s ‘nice little body.’ Louis can’t have that, Harry is his worst enemy, his mortal enemy, his life-long nemesis, and the world doesn’t need to think anything different. Plus, he doesn’t want the world to know how much of a lightweight he is.

So Louis complies, heading out the door and into the thick summer air.

Louis actually spent every year since the first grade at Camp Lakewood. He played football and swam and even put a snake in Harry’s bunk while he was sleeping. That camp was his home away from home and arriving back after so many years felt like a wave of comfort washing over him. He took a deep breath and bounded out of the car, stacking the boxes up in his arms, various instruments banging around as he adjusted them, his legs taking him in the direction of the music room, his subconscious leading the way.

Knocking cautiously on the door, Louis steps into the familiar room, the muraled walls and stacks of sheet music greeting him like a warm hug. Looking over the stack of boxes in his arms, Louis looks for anyone else who might be in the room. His eyes landed on a pair of tiny yellow shorts, then a bright pink shirt, and finally a head of curls held back by a headband.

Louis knows who’s curls those were, knew who he would have to spend the next couple hours with unloading boxes.

Filled with a mix of shock and dismay, Louis drops the boxes, the loud bang of instruments crashing against each other echoing throughout the room.

Harry’s head snaps up as he took in the mess surrounding Louis.

“Oops” Harry laughs as he gets up and walks towards Louis, attempting to avoid various instruments flung across the room.

“Hi” Louis mutters his face turning a bright shade of red as he attempts to look anywhere except at Harry.

The universe is out to get Louis. As if being stuck in a confined area with Harry for more than a few minutes wasn’t bad enough, but the very first thing Louis had to do was make a complete and utter fool of himself. Maybe this is karma getting back at him for not calling his mom last Sunday like he promised. Maybe this is just karma getting back at him for being a dick. Maybe this is just Zayn getting back at him. Most definitely Zayn getting back at him.

“I don’t know where you come from, but on Earth, when you make a mess, you’re supposed to help people clean it up.” Harry commented as he picked up a trumpet and set it back into a box.

Louis huffed heavily before squatting down and beginning to pick up spilled instruments, placing them carefully back into their boxes.

Both the boys were quiet and the silence was killing Louis. Stopping in his work, he looked up at Harry and really took him in.

His neon pink shirt hung loosely around his frame, revealing a tattoo of something large and patterned on his stomach, a bird maybe, or a butterfly? The longer Louis looked the more enchanted he got with the faint glow of Harry’s skin and the delicate pattern of the tattoo. Louis wanted to know what it was, what it meant, wanted to trace it while Harry talking about anything and everything for hours on end.

But of course that would be preposterous because Harry is his worst enemy, his least favorite person ever.

Harry must catch Louis looking, because he begins to explain, “it’s a giant butterfly. I decided to get it after I came out as gay because I was coming out of my cocoon and becoming the real, beautiful, me. If you want to see it…”

And suddenly Harry is taking off his shirt and Louis can see his defined muscles and a giant butterfly and only Harry Styles would get a tattoo of a giant butterfly and Louis is so endeared he wants to grab a violin and compose something for Harry.

Instead, Louis reaches out and touches one of the butterfly’s wings. Harry’s skin is cool to the touch and firm, Louis trailing his fingers across the outline of the wing. Louis notices a small trail of hair going down from Harry’s belly button until it disappears behind the waistband of Harry’s shorts and Louis wants nothing more than to drag Harry into the instrument storage closet and figure out where that trail ends.

Louis would never do that though, he hates Harry, he despises him and his perfect body and his stupid butterfly tattoo.

The world seems to stop breathing for a moment as Louis pulls his hand away and looks down at a worn flute on the ground, focusing on each individual key. He waits for Harry to say something, but to no avail. As a minute passes by in complete silence, Louis realizes how stupid he was. He’s lead Harry to believe he wants him dead since elementary school and now he’s delicately stroking Harry in the same room he learned how to play piano. What is wrong with him? Why can’t he control his desires and be a normal enemy?

Harry slowly picks up a triangle and places it back into a box, breaking the silence as he clears his throat, “You know I have other tattoos too, and they all mean something, for example I got this one for my sister and this one for my mom.” And suddenly Harry is motioning to tattoos littered across his body and describing where and why he got each one, a smile lighting up his face as he moves from tattoo to tattoo.

Suddenly it’s four hours later, Harry is still shirtless, all the instruments have been moved from the floor to their shelves and Louis now knows that Harry has four nipples, likes to get tattoos to represent people he loves, and even has matching screw tattoos with Liam.

Louis admits that he’s not a big fan of tattoos on himself, but Harry says he understands. After seeing Harry’s tattoos Louis is much more okay with tattoos on other people but Harry doesn’t have to know that. Harry also doesn’t have to know that at the end of the day when everything is put away and Louis knows about all of Harry’s tattoos, he leaves hating Harry a little less and wanting him a little more.

*~*

It had been two weeks since he put chili sauce in Louis’ mouth while he was sleeping and Harry was starting to get worried.

Louis always got revenge within a week of Harry’s pranks. Even that time when he had to somehow orchestrate placing a cow on Harry’s roof senior year, he managed to do it within a week. Where he got a cow, Harry still doesn’t know.

Now Harry was scared. Scared for his life. Louis could prank him at any moment. Harry assumes that this is what a pregnant woman must feel like the week they’re expected to give birth – constantly living in fear that it could hit you at any moment and a baby could just start coming out of you in the middle of Nando’s or something.

So when Harry wakes up and his body is covered in bright colors, a wave of serenity washes over him.

After carefully inspecting himself in the mirror by his dresser, it seemed as though someone took the liberty of using Harry’s body as a giant coloring book, filling in all of his tattoos with multi-colored sharpies while he was sleeping. His butterfly was now purple and pink, his mermaid sporting a teal tail, even his large rose tattoo was a brightly colored red. The cherry on top is a rainbow colored L taking up the entirety of Harry’s left thigh – the mark of the genius responsible for Harry’s new paint job.

He can just imagine Louis kneeling over Harry, his tongue sticking out of his mouth ever so slightly as he concentrated on perfecting his work, a rainbow of sharpies in his left hand as he drew with his right. If Harry closes his eyes he can even see Louis smirking when he is satisfied with his creations, blue eyes practically glowing with mirth.

That’s when Harry is hit with the realization that this prank was eerily harmless. It was lacking all three things that Louis’ pranks always incorporated: pain, embarrassment, and pain. Louis had pulled off better pranks than this before he could even correctly spell the word prank.

Something else had to be in store, this must just be the warm up prank, the prank to let Harry’s guard down. This was the breadsticks to the pasta dish, this was the appetizer to the main course, this was the opening band no one knew about to the main act.

Harry just had to keep his eyes peeled, his ears open and his wits about him if he wanted to survive.

Ten fear filled days passed. Ten days where Harry slept with the lights on and didn’t leave his room. By the ninth day Harry had grown so paranoid that he made Liam take shifts with him at night. By the end of the tenth day Harry did the only logical thing left to do and stalked Louis on Twitter and Instagram to see if he posted anything suggesting an attack or even some sort of evil plan, but all he got was pictures of Louis holding various packaged food items and tweets about Domino’s and football follower by exclamation marks. Lots and lots of exclamation marks. After everything. By the time Harry read Louis’ seventh tweet about how mad he was Domino’s stopped selling their mozzarella dippers, he decided to resort to his final option – buttering Zayn up with cinnamon muffins and coffee with baileys and then interrogating him for details.

Five hours, two muffins and three drinks later and Zayn is spilling everything.

“Honestly Haz, he’s not planning anything else. When I learned that was all he did I was just as shocked as you are. But, when I asked why he wasn’t doing anything more he got all defensive. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since becoming his friend, is that he doesn’t like revealing his feelings. He thinks showing them makes him weak, venerable. I’ve got to let him come to me when he’s ready. Until then, just know you can sleep without a nightlight anymore.” Zayn half-heartedly joked, reaching for another muffin.

Harry knew however, that what Zayn was saying rang true. When he was 12, Louis sprained his ankle while playing soccer. Instead of telling someone he was hurting, Louis hid the pain because he thought confessing to his agony would make him a baby, a wuss. He masked his wound and continued to walk on his hurt leg until his ankle had swollen to the size of a baseball and Louis was holding back sobs every time he walked.

Harry knew that Louis knew that the ball was in Harry’s court now. If this was Louis’ attempt at a peace offering, it was up to Harry to accept.

What would happen if he did accept, would he and Louis become friends? Would they spend Saturday nights playing Scrabble, drinking tea and contemplating life’s many questions? Or would they do something more? Maybe spend hours snogging, Harry exploring Louis’ skin until he had explored every inch of his skin – each curve, each crevice imprinted in Harry’s mind like a painting. Maybe Harry should stop thinking.

There was only one way to find out Harry decided.

He would prank Louis in the most suggestive, flirtatious way possible. And he knew exactly how.

*~*

Liam  
can you believe the prank lou pulled on h?!?

Niall  
i cant decide if im disappointed because it was so lame or if im annoyed because of how whipped he is

Zayn  
i 2nd that. he spent 2 hours drawing on harrys half naked body. he wouldn’t shut up about how good light blue looks with harrys skin tone.

Liam  
time for part two of our plan. i like to call it part 2: football to booty call

Niall  
and i thought harrys puns were bad

Liam  
just promise you can be free tomorrow and that zayn will let us use some supplies in his spray paint box

Zayn  
i hope you know this isn’t for you. its for love

*~*

“Harry Edward Styles get off your lazy ass. We are going to the park and we are playing Frisbee and you are not going to complain.” Liam pulls on Harry’s arm forcefully, attempting to pull him away from his laptop.

“But Liam I’m so close to getting this prank down, I just need to figure out how to get a lifeguard license.” Harry desperately begs, trying to hold onto his laptop as Liam hauls him away.

“I don’t even want to know.” Liam sighs, finally prying Harry away from his laptop and propelling him towards the door; Harry still pushing against him.

Harry knows that he had agreed to go to the park to play Frisbee. He knows he had agreed to play with Zayn, Niall and Liam. However, he also knows that this prank is going to be his best one yet – the perfect mix of suggestive and confusing to get into Louis’ brain and make him crazy. Harry has to make the prank perfect, if one thing didn’t go according to plan, the prank will flop and Harry is _not_ a prank flopper.

Liam managed to drag Harry out of the flat, shutting and locking to door behind them triumphantly.

Sighing heavily in defeat, Harry glared at Liam before following him to his car. At least he had time to save his Word Doc before he was hauled away.

At least he was being forced against his will to go to the park when the weather was good. The sun was beating down through the car windows, the clouds all looked like cotton candy and for some reason Liam was wearing a coat.

Harry did a double take. Liam was wearing his old high school’s football jumper, Hall Cross Academy branded on the front along with the Hall Cross logo underneath – a bird holding a flag waving in the wind.

“You know Liam, it is 30 degrees Celsius not Fahrenheit, I could fry an egg on the hood of this car; I don’t think you need a jumper to keep you warm.” Harry reasoned, reaching towards Liam to tug the jumper.

With a swiftness and agility that Harry never knew he possessed, Liam swatted Harry’s hand away and held his jumper against himself protectively. “Better safe than sorry.” Liam said and left it at that.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence and by the time they reach the park Harry is ready to barrel roll out of the car if he has to.

It takes 5 minutes to find a place to park because for some reason, the parking lot is filled with an abnormal amount of cars and people. Someone must be having a giant, giant barbeque Harry tires to reason with himself as he gets out of the car and follows Liam as they fight their way through the masses of people.

That’s when Harry notices that Liam is heading away from the main field and towards the bleachers. The bleachers where Niall and Zayn are already sitting. Niall and Zayn who have spray painted foam core resting against their knees with words on them that Harry can read all the way from where he’s standing and that’s when his body goes stiff, his blood goes cold and Liam begins taking off his jumper, revealing the shirt he tried so desperately to hide from Harry reading “my friend wants to screwy-Louis.”

By the time they reach the bleachers Harry is fuming and Niall, Liam and Zayn are all doubled over laughing.

“I don’t understand why you all think this is funny. You tricked me into thinking I was going to be having quality guy time with you. Dudes being bros time. But no, you drag me out of my den, lie to me, and trick me. What kind of friends are you. I knew I should have left you all for that nice kid in my pottery class first semester.” Harry spat, sitting stiffly on the bleachers, his arms crossed in rage.

“We swear it was a coincidence, we had no idea he was playing in the annual charity football match.” Niall reasoned, ruffling Harry’s back on what seemed to be, his way of making things okay.

Things were not okay. Harry had been conned into watching Louis play in Doncaster’s Annual Football for Families charity football match. By his own friends. That meant two hours of Louis running up and down a field, being sweaty, athletic and drop dead gorgeous for a good cause, for _families in need._ Harry had never wanted to simultaneously strangle and make out with someone so badly.

“What a fat load of cow shit. I know you planned this. You made signs just to embarrass me for crying out loud. Zayn brought pom poms!”

“Aye” Zayn protested loudly, “We worked hard on these signs, it takes a certain level of genius to come up with ‘I’ve got a fever and the only prescription is number 17’s ass’.”

Niall laughed loudly adding, “Don’t forget my personal favorite, ‘louis, you can score in my goal any day’.”

“What about, ‘number 17, you’re not the only one with good ball handling skills’.” Liam cackles in addition, Harry swatting at him disapprovingly.

That was the moment Louis happened to make his way onto the field and spot the group in the bleachers. Because that’s how Harry’s day was going. After reading the signs Liam, Niall and Zayn held up enthusiastically, Louis arched his eyebrow at Harry, a smirk covering his face. Harry groans loudly, running his hands over his face in agony. Louis laughs at that, his whole body shuddering as he broke into a smile so bright he made the sun jealous. Did Harry just compare Louis to the fucking sun? He had to breathe. By the time Harry had gained enough courage to make eye contact with Louis, he was already gone and the game had begun.

Louis ran up and down the field, his hair falling into his eyes as he sprinted. How had Harry never noticed how good Louis’ butt looked in shorts? Or how tan he looked when he was wearing white? At least Harry had an entire game to figure out the answers to these questions.

However, focusing on the questions was harder than Harry expected. For a group of random people, Louis’ team was quite good. Sure the main reason was because Louis carried the entire team, but Harry wasn’t going to be the first to admit that Louis actually knew what he was doing. Louis was running up and down the field, getting open for people to pass to him in all the right places and at all the right moments, stealing the ball from the other team and dribbling it with precision Messi would envy.

In any normal circumstance Harry would feel guilty for how attractive he finds Louis, but in this moment he can’t find a reason to care. He’s just appreciating God’s creations that’s all. Observing the art. Admiring the 10th wonder of the world in person. Someone had to do it. Harry was doing the world a favor, giving them one less job to worry about. They should be thanking him.

After contemplating if the flexibility Louis demonstrates on the football field is the same as in the bedroom, and brainstorming a lengthy list of different football related fantasies, the game is over and Harry has no idea who won. Suddenly, the answer to that question doesn’t seem very important because Louis is taking off his shirt, a sheen of sweat on his firm stomach, his skin practically glowing.

Rapidly, Harry goes from admiration to want. Harry wants Louis. He needs Louis. He needs to feel Louis under him, he needs to feel Louis’ lips against his, needs to know what it’s like to get Louis sweaty, have Louis in his arms. Before he can process what he’s doing, Harry is getting up, pushing past Liam and ignoring his confused glance. All of a sudden Harry in on the field and he’s in front of Louis, sweating, panting Louis.

Harry can’t remember why he came down here. He can’t remember why he wanted to talk to Louis. His mind is completely void except for one thought; abort mission. As he’s about to make his getaway, Louis traps him.

“Sorry to break it to you but if you came down here to invite me back to your room the screwy with you, I’d have to say no. You’d have to take me to dinner first.” Louis winks at Harry, tousling his hair so it’s out of his eyes. Harry doesn’t know what to reply. Louis is so close and smells like man and sweat and Harry really really does want to screw him.

“Nah, I don’t want to be any degree of undressed with you, you might try to color me again.” Harry retorts. And now Louis is laughing. Why did Harry have to make Louis laugh? He looks so pretty when he laughs and he’s still shirtless. Harry wants to be the reason Louis laughs for the rest of his life.

“Ah I see, you liked my paint job. Evidently enough to bring Zayn along as a cheerleader. Actually, he’s done a pretty ace job with those pom poms so far. I reckon he could make the team next year if he wanted to.” Louis says, and Harry wonders when this became the norm. When did they become able to tolerate each other enough to hold a conversation? More importantly, when did Louis start making Harry’s heart beat so fast?

“Yeah you played a great game, you look like you really love balls. Footballs that is. Yeah you really love footballs. I love footballs. Who doesn’t love footballs?” Harry wants to end himself right there on the field. Where’s Liam when he needs him?

“Footballs aren’t the only balls I love.” Louis purred, turning on his heel and walking away; leaving Harry standing on the field, mouth open so wide it could touch the crisp cut grass of the field.

Damn Louis Tomlinson. Damn him and his shirtless body all to hell.

 

*~*

Louis loved the pool. More specifically, he loved the pool when he got to take all his little siblings with him, all piled up in the car with their various animal shaped pool floats, the car sticky with their sweat as they all sung as loud as possible to the top 45 pop songs of the summer.

This summer they were singing Best Song Ever by some new boy group he had never heard of before. If he was being quite honest, Louis thought him and the lads could do a better job singing the tune than the group on the radio, but that didn’t stop him from belting along with Lottie.

The band had just begun to sing about some girl who was dentist’s daughter when Louis pulled into the pool parking lot. Helping the kids get out, Louis led them towards the pool, a crocodile pool float in one arm and his little brother Earnest in the other. After fighting with a middle aged woman for chairs – “I have multiple kids with me and I really don’t want them to see me swear but you’re pushing me to my limit honey” – Louis finally got everybody a towel and a chair and took out the sun screen.

Louis was about to call Lottie over to ask her to help lotion the little ones when he’s interrupted by a voice he’s grown too familiar with.

“Do you need help applying sunscreen? I would hate to see you get burned”

Louis slowly turned around and was met with the sight of Harry in full lifeguard attire. His hair was tied in a bun most teenage girls envied, he was wearing a Doncaster Community Swimming Pool Lifeguard shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show off the tattoos littering his arms, paired with the shortest red swimming trunks Louis had ever seen, making Harry’s mile long legs look never-ending.

Louis weighed the pros and cons, but Harry didn’t wait for an answer, pulling the sunscreen out of Louis’ hand. Mouth open in protest, Louis began to object, but Harry was already lathering his back.

“You’ve got such a nice back, it’s so lovely and muscular. I love guys with muscular backs.” Harry purred into Louis’ ear, his hands slowly traveling lower and lower down Louis’ back.

Louis could feel himself turning a light shade of harry-styles-is-turning-me-on pink. Swatting Harry’s hands away he hissed, “I think your work here is done Styles thanks so much. Go save a drowning person or yell at someone for peeing in the pool or something.”

“I would but I think I better stay here.” Harry chirped happily. “I’ve gotta watch over your eyes, someone could drown in them if they weren’t careful. How did they get so blue? Like crystal clear oceans on a hot summer day.”

It was then that Harry decided to slowly peel his shirt off, winking at Louis as he did. “I’m sorry it is just so hot out.”

Louis noticed that Earnest, Dorris, and the twins were still waiting for him to help them with their sun screen. They had just witnessed Louis getting flustered because of Harry Styles, and they all knew he hated Harry Styles. He couldn’t believe he let this happen.

“Could you just please go away.” Louis begged, putting his hands together in mock plea.

“Oh I guess so,” Harry sighed, standing up. “But, I’m coming back, I like you.” Harry added, lightly slapping Louis on the bum as he got up and walked away, whistling casually as if he didn’t just opening flirt with Louis in front of toddlers.

Louis shook his head forcefully, attempting to shake the past 15 minutes out of his head. He didn’t know what Harry was trying to get at, but he had a feeling it had something to do with Louis’ previous prank, and Louis wasn’t going to let Harry trick him.

Covering the kids with sunscreen, Louis sent them off to go splash around in the pool. At least if Harry came back Louis wouldn’t have to worry about Harry mentally scaring them for eternity.

Harry did come back. Of course, however, Harry chose to pay Louis another visit while he was enjoying a poolside lunch with his siblings, Daisy in his lap happily munching on a PB&and,J (about the only food Louis could make without burning the entire kitchen down. That and cereal.)

This time Harry brought with him a large cherry popsicle; sucking on it happily as he sat down next to Louis.

“I just love sucking things, don’t you Louis?” Harry hummed, darting his tongue out to lick the popsicle once more.

Louis couldn’t let Harry get to him, he had to stay strong. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, Louis choked, “I’d love for us to discuss something a little more child friendly.”

Harry just continued to lick his popsicle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly what to say to make Louis squirm in his seat. Louis hoped Harry and his stupid popsicle would drown in the pool.

“Are you going to come for a dip in the pool later? You’ve got such a nice little body, you’d be a great swimmer.” Harry smirked, playfully tugging at the elastic waistband of Louis’ swimming trunks.

Harry was slowly breaking down Louis’ barriers. He could feel his swimming trunks getting tighter and tighter. Think about dead puppies, think about Zayn and an old lady going at it, just stop thinking about Harry and his popsicle licking abilities, Louis reasoned with himself.

“Please Harry for the love of everything holy, let me have a day with my family.” Louis groaned, attempting to ignore Harry’s playful grin.

“Feisty, I like it.” Harry breathed into Louis’ ear before getting up for the second time and walking away.

Louis needed a cold shower. Right now. Before Harry plays any more mind games with him. At least there’s no better place to be to cool down.

Louis got up, face still a shade of pink Frenchy’s hair would envy and walked as fast as possible towards a vacant showerhead outside the changing rooms.

Turning the nozzle on as fast as possible, Louis waited for the cold water to shower over him. His eyes connected with Harry’s across the pool deck and that’s when he knew he had made a mistake. Harry’s eyes were glistening a mix of I just got away with killing someone, and I feel sorry for what you’re about to go through, which could only mean one thing. Louis had just fallen into a trap.

Instead of water, Louis was greeted with a thick cloud of baby powder.

Damn Harry Styles. Damn him and his baby powder showers and damn how attracted Louis was to him.

*~*

Zayn  
louis came back to the flat today fuming about how annoyingly attractive harry is

Niall  
perfect, they’re that much closer to putting the pickle in the mason jar

Liam  
that is not a thing that actual normal people actually say

Zayn  
we’ve just got to get them in one place together and force them to be alone with each other for a long period of time

Zayn  
LEEDS FEST

*~*

Harry was nervous. More nervous than that time he was watching the 2010 X Factor and didn’t know if Katy Perry was going to let that little Irish boy that looked like Niall go through to boot camp. He was more nervous than that time when he came out of the closet to his mom. He was more nervous than that time when he accidentally dropped his phone in his soup and didn’t know if it still worked.

He was about to perform to hundreds, possibly thousands of people at a festival that he had dreamed of attending for as long as he could remember.

And all because he had decided to busk at a new coffee shop instead of his usual one near the university.

By some stroke of luck, someone from the Leeds Festival planning team happened to be in the café at the same time as Harry, and liked what they heard.

Now Harry is standing to the left of a giant stage, people rushing past him yelling directions, controlled chaos.

He can hear a countdown, and suddenly he’s shoved on stage, guitar in hand, blood pumping loudly. The site in front of him takes his breath away. He is standing in front of masses of people, so many people he can’t even see the ground. 

“Sing something!” Someone shouts jokingly from the crowd, the audience erupting in laughter.

Harry walks up to the mike and clears his throat.

“I was planning on coming out here – _to a music festival_ \- to tell knock knock jokes, but if you insist.” Harry deadpans as he tunes his guitar and mulls over what song to play first, as if he hadn’t already arranged and rearranged his set list twenty times.

An awkward introduction and three songs later and Harry has fully let go. He’s no longer scared thinking about whether the audience will like a song or enjoy his voice. He’s no longer nervous about tripping on stage. Harry has fully come out of his shell and it feels amazing.

He’s jumping around the stage, twirling around the stage, the audience dancing foolishly with him. This is when he realizes that this is what he want’s to do for the rest of his life. He wants to make people feel real emotions when he’s singing, he wants people to be happy with him, dance with him, sing with him. Every time he steps onto the stage all his worries fade away and he gets to be completely himself, completely 100% Harry Edward Styles.

As the last song of the set nears, Harry takes a moment to take in the audience. Scanning the crowd his is amazed at all the different people he was able to bring together with his voice and a guitar. That’s when a familiar head of caramel hair catches his eye and his voice catches in his throat.

Harry’s mind races a mile a minute. Louis didn’t have to be here, he must have a thousand better things to do with his time than listen to Harry sing indie rock versions of NSYNC songs.

But Louis was here, decked out in a tie-dye tank top and cuffed denim shorts, a flower crown resting in his delicate hair.

Oh god the flowers in the crown were the same shade of blue as Louis’ eyes. How did he get a flower crown that shade? Why was he wearing a flower crown? Why did he look so good in a flower crown? Harry was so endeared he thought he might explode all over the stage, completely covering the people pressed against the barriers.

Stage, right, he was supposed to be singing. Harry shook his head vigorously, attempting to shake all thoughts of Louis and his delicate beauty out of his mind.

“This last song, is about a boy, a boy that I hate – well used to hate, well I don’t know how I feel about him right now, but I don’t hate him anymore.” Harry muttered into the mike, looking at Louis out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction.

He can see Zayn slapping Louis in the back and Harry laughs. He knows that Zayn and the rest of the Harry-and-Louis-should-date team might infer a bit too much from what he’s just said but Harry can’t find the energy to care.

He just wants to sing. So he does.

*~*

Harry sang him a song. Harry Styles sang him a song. In front of hundreds of people. A song about mixed feelings, very literally titled “Mixed Feelings”.

One of the lyrics was ‘I want you, I need you, I hate you.’

Louis thinks that very accurately describes his feelings towards Harry as well.

To make matters worse, Zayn won’t shut up about it.

“Oh Louis how cute, he sang to you, he sang his heart out to win you over, this is cuter than baby puppies playing with ducklings.” Zayn swoons ruffling Louis’ hair as he does.

“Oh Louis how cute, it’s not like I tricked you into coming to this festival because I knew Harry was performing here and I promised that Clean Bandit would be here even though they’re not.” Louis added imitating Zayn as best as possible.

Louis didn’t see Harry again until that night when he was about to go to bed.

He had pitched his tent (well really he made Liam pitch it while he ordered him around) and had gotten into his sleeping bag when the front of the tent unzipped and an unidentified person ducked into the tent and started undressing.

“Look I know I’m hot and single and alone but that doesn’t mean I’m up to fuck.” Louis stated, trying to remain calm.

The now shirtless person jumped in surprise and turned towards Louis, their skin noticeably redder than when they first entered the tent.

It wasn’t until Louis got a good look at the stranger that he noticed the stranger was actually Harry.

Harry was in his tent, half naked.

Louis thought he turned down the acid someone offered him during the Mumford and Sons set, maybe he didn’t. There was no other explanation for what Louis was witnessing. Maybe he was just sleep deprived to the point of hallucination. He wishes his mind had come up with a better hallucination, like half naked Angus O’Loughlin. Louis had a small thing for Angus O’Loughlin because seriously, how could someone look that good in a blue suit coat.

A rough voice broke through Louis’ blue suit coat induced fantasies. “Liam can go to hell.” Shirtless Harry cursed groggily under his breath.

“I don’t know what this has to do with Liam but you need to get out of my tent right now before I personally strangle you with my sleeping bag.” Louis snapped at Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically before running a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

“Look Tomlinson, I don’t know why you’re in here. All I know is that Liam told me this was my tent and that my sleeping bag was in here. But last time I checked my sleeping bag didn’t have the Power Rangers on it, and you weren’t in it.”

“Hey, the Power Rangers could beat your ass any day you twat. Besides, your sleeping bag is definitely not in here, I think I would know, it would probably smell like incense and kale or something.”

Harry groaned loudly and stepped over Louis, searching through the tent. “I’m not a college girl from California Louis, I just really want to sleep, performing took the life out of me.” Harry sighed loudly, giving up with his search and plopping down next to Louis.

“Thanks for the song actually Styles, who knew you wanted to bone me so bad.” Louis tried to play off the situation with a laugh but he could see that Harry knew Louis was genuinely thanking him.

“Looks like my wild music festival hippy sex dreams are about to come true if we can’t find another sleeping bag.” Harry joked, but Louis could hear the serious undertone of his statement.

What were they actually going to do? Liam, Niall and Zayn had undoubtedly created a master plan that Louis and Harry were unaware of and Louis would not let them win. No matter how badly he wanted Harry’s shirtless body pressed against his. He could stay strong.

“You are a frog so it shouldn’t be a problem for you to join your frog brothers and sisters in the swamp.”

“What about you, you little hedgehog, go live wherever hedgehogs live.” Harry quipped. Louis laughed loudly.

“Do you actually think I’m a hedgehog? I was hoping you’d go for lion instead, they’re brave and manly and handsome. Hedgehogs are cute and cuddly. I don’t want to be cute and cuddly.” Louis groaned, attempting to hit Harry with his pillow and failing miserably. So what he missed, he did get kicked off his dodgeball team in middle school, but Coach Corden was a dick anyways.

Harry tilted his head, his brows drawn together in concentration.

“I wouldn’t say you’re cute, more ruggedly handsome.” Harry finally said, nodding after as if to agree with the veracity of his statement.

“You know, that compliment might have just won you a VIP pass into my sleeping bag.” Louis joked sarcastically. As if his heart wasn’t beating a thousand miles a minute because Harry just called him ruggedly handsome. He didn’t even know what ruggedly handsome denoted but that didn’t stop his cheeks from still turning a bright shade of red.

However, Harry didn’t notice the sarcasm in Louis’ words because suddenly he was stripping his skinny jeans off and unzipping Louis’ sleeping bag.

Louis had never been so thankful in his life that he was wearing flannel pajama bottoms instead of his normal just pants sleeping attire.

“Oh dear lord Harold I wasn’t being serious!” Louis attempted to reason as he tried to push Harry away.

It was too late. Harry had fully unzipped Louis’ sleeping bag, turning it into a giant blanket and cuddled himself under it, pulling Louis close.

“What now Harry.” Louis sighed as Harry attempted to throw Louis’ arm around his body.

“I’m the little spoon.” Harry stated, as if it couldn’t be more obvious that he wanted Louis to cuddle him. Louis who tortured him for 14 years. Louis who was nothing but mean to him and a little cheeky.

Louis took a shaky breath as his mind came to terms with the situation. Harry wanted Louis to spoon him.

Harry had to be some sort of alien species. He couldn’t possibly be human.

“Harry Styles you are some next level shit.” Louis sighed, throwing his arm around Harry’s waist, his hand delicately resting against the bare skin of Harry’s stomach. He could feel the heat radiating off Harry. He thinks he could lay in this heat forever. Tentatively, Louis began to trace the pattern of the one of Harry’s fern tattoos.

Harry sighed contently, “You know Louis, I might have to strip down to my pants for you more often. Bet you didn’t think you’d be getting me in bed with you on the first date.”

*~*

Louis woke up with the sun shining in his face and a body pressed against his. The body of a still sleeping Harry Styles. The almost naked body of a still sleeping Harry Styles.

Louis took a moment to admire how harmless and innocent Harry looked while he was sleeping. His hair was splayed across his face, his limbs tangled up in Louis’ sleeping bag, his mouth slightly open as he snored.

He looked like a deer Louis thought. Almost as if Louis moving would scare him off and he would dart back into the woods.

Louis knew Harry was going to wake up soon. He knew this couldn’t last forever. He knew if anybody walked into the tent they would see Louis admiring Harry, but he couldn’t find the energy to be bothered.

Harry left him powerless and defenseless, - even though Louis was supposed to hate him. It was obvious the hate had morphed into something different altogether, and Louis found that he didn’t care. He wanted to be all Harry’s, nothing but Harry’s, he wanted to give up all control, ignore his head and listen to what his body was saying.

He couldn’t get enough of Harry, his toned skin, his deep dimples, his endless tattoos. Louis just wanted to push the pedal down, close his eyes and go for it, leaving Harry breathless, traces of innocence on the pillowcase as Louis gave in.

“Dear lord Tommo, you cuddle with him once and it’s enough to make you want to go on a sex marathon with him. Pull yourself together.”

Louis will be stronger than his dick. He has to be.

Harry slowly opens his eyes, smiling innocently up at Louis as he does. Louis is hit with a want so bad he knows he won’t be able to win this battle, because his heart might have just started to agree with his dick.

*~*

Louis doesn’t know when cuddling Harry becomes routine. He doesn’t know when he starts to miss sets at the festival that he wants to see because Harry wants to watch groups of bearded men yodeling to the tune of a banjo. He doesn’t know when all he can think about is suddenly, Harry, Harry and more Harry.

He wants people to know that he is the person that gets to spend nights curled up with Harry. He wants people to know that he is the person that can make Harry laugh, and dance like nobody’s watching, and let loose.

That’s why one night, when Harry and Louis are curled up together in their tent, Louis turns to Harry and simply states, “There’s a tattoo I want to add to your collection.”

“Go for it.” Harry laughs, his face dimpling as he reaches over Louis to grab a pen.

“Well come on then Styles, off with your shirt and cover your eyes, this is a surprise.” Louis insists as he uncaps the pen.

Harry lets out another laugh as his obediently pulls off his shirt and covers his eyes with his hands.

Louis looks down at Harry’s inked skin, his brows draw in concentration.

Finally deciding what he wants to add to Harry’s collection, Louis bends down and gets to work.

Happy with his work, Louis lets out a satisfied noise and removes Harry’s hands from where they had previously been blinding him.

“You can look now. Tell me what you think.”

Harry twists around to try and find where Louis drew on him.

“You know.” Louis says thoughtfully as Harry continues to search, “we used to actually be friends before the whole pranking thing started. We are the literal definition of Bad Blood.”

“I’m totally Catastrophe!” Harry quipped, laughing.

“Never you hooligan, you don’t get to be Taylor Swift.”

“Band aids don’t fix bullet holes. But you know what does? Having your best friends push you together with someone until you eventually see that they’re kinda decent.” Harry states, grinning at Louis as he does.

“Well then I guess this kinda decent person won’t tell you where he drew on you.” Louis smirked, acknowledging the fact that Harry had been searching for 10 minutes and still hadn’t found anything.

“Okay, okay fine! You’re a little above decent. Is that good enough for you?”

Louis smiles triumphantly and points to a small L written on the edge of Harry’s hand, near his wrist.

Knowing Harry won’t understand, Louis beings to explain.

“I always sign my pranks with an L so every time, you know that they’re mine. Maybe I wanted to put an L on you for the same reason.”

*~*

In the back of his mind, Louis knew Leeds Fest was going to end, and with it his intimacy with Harry.

With only half a month left in the summer, Louis and Harry would return to their separate lives, Louis pretending like he didn’t have to buy new books and get new classes sorted out.

But when Harry and Louis are packing up their tent, Louis can still feel the sinking feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t want this to end. He wants to stay wrapped up with Harry forever, cuddling until the middle of the day and slowly getting drunk on happiness and beer until after the sun sets and rises again.

Suddenly Harry is pulling him into a bone crushing hug and whispering that they’ll see each other soon. When he pulls away Louis can see the L he drew hasn’t faded from his hand yet.

*~*

Louis can’t fall asleep. He’s tried everything – NyQuil, tea, listening to soothing music, turning his pillow onto its cold side. Nothing has worked.

He knows his has something to do with the Harry-sized empty space next to Louis in bed, but he won’t admit it just yet. 

He wishes Zayn was here. Then he would be able to crawl into bed with Zayn; knowing he wouldn’t care if Louis didn’t offer an explanation. However, that option was out because Zayn was off yet again with his mysterious writing buddy.

Completely giving up on being able to fall asleep, Louis hops out of bed, taking his duvet with him as he pads over to the fridge to get a carton of ice cream.

Plopping down in front of the TV, Louis flip channels until he lands on a documentary about meerkats.

Five minutes into the show and he’s already got brain freeze twice. But at least he knows how meerkats attract mates.

As Louis is about to learn how meerkats construct their burrows, there’s a light knock on the door.

Leaving the ice cream by the TV, Louis pushes himself off the couch, ready to give Zayn a scolding for forgetting his keys somewhere.

Pushing the door open, Louis beings, “Zayn Malik I can’t believe you! Ditching your one and only friend for –“

The person standing in front of Louis is definitely not Zayn.

“Can’t sleep.” Harry mutters, head cast down, blue pajama pants with yellow ducks on them hanging loosely on his hips.

Wordlessly, Louis grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him into the room, closing the door behind him.

He doesn’t worry about how this will affect his relationship with Harry, he doesn’t worry about what he’ll do when he wakes up, he doesn’t even worry about how his real life is beginning to be invaded by something he’s afraid of – needing someone.

All Louis does is pull Harry into bed, curling around him as Harry tangles their legs together.

The last thought Louis has before he drifts into slumber is, ‘maybe this is where I belong.’

*~*

For some reason unknown to Louis, Harry stays.

Suddenly every part of Louis’ life is occupied by something Harry related.

His iTunes is filled with Harry’s music, his closet littered with Harry’s scarves and sweaters. He even finds the ties Harry likes to use to his hair in random places – in Louis’ car, in his fridge.

Every morning when Louis wakes up, he wakes up with Harry and every night when he goes to bed, Harry is in his arms.

Harry begins to place chaste kisses on Louis’ cheeks at random times during the day. Soon Louis expects them and that’s when he knows he’s in too deep.

The more time he spends with Harry, the more affection Harry demonstrates towards him, the more Louis realizes that him and Harry should never happen.

The worst part is that Louis wants it so badly. He wants nothing more in the world than to be able to call Harry his, to be able to give in to Harry, kiss him till he can’t breathe. He knows that his hate for Harry has completely dissipated, he didn’t even try to argue with himself about it.

To make matters worse, whenever Louis so much as mentioned something involving Harry to Liam or Niall, they blew up with – “the happy couple”, “spending time with your sugar daddy”, “goals, just, relationship goals.”

They had also gone to the extent of creating a couple name for the two boys – Larry Stylinson – calling it out whenever they wanted to mention both Louis and Harry at the same time. Niall claimed he was the captain of their ‘ship’.

Louis didn’t exactly know what ships had to do with Louis and Harry but he didn’t fight with Niall about it, he knew Niall indulged in some weird pop culture trends.

Louis didn’t want to admit it, but he liked thinking of Harry and him as one entity, one thing, two people coming together to create something more – the dream team.

At least Louis didn’t have to deal with Zayn’s annoying Larry Stylinson comments when him and Harry were at home. Mainly because Zayn was almost never at their flat anymore, instead preferring to spend as much time as possible with his mysterious writing buddy.

Louis had pressed Zayn for information about his infamous friend, joking that if Zayn was cheating on him with another man he at least wanted to know more information.

All Zayn would tell him was that his friend’s pseudonym was ‘Naughty Boy.’ God only knows why someone would sign their books with the name Naughty Boy, unless of course they were a sex novel author. Maybe Zayn was having an affair after all.

The only comment that Zayn makes about Louis and Harry is a quick text late at night – “heard uve been spending a lot of time w/ h” is all it reads.

Maybe Louis has been spending too much time with Harry. Louis hasn’t seen Zayn in forever and he somehow knows about it.

As an added punishment, as Louis spends more time with Harry, he finds more reasons that they shouldn’t be together.

At first it’s small things – ‘he likes to do juice cleanses and try weird smoothies, he deserves someone who doesn’t live off of McDonalds.’ Then it blossoms into bigger things – ‘he deserves someone who’s open about how they’re feeling, he deserves someone who wants to settle down early, he deserves someone responsible, he deserves someone who can actually _love_ him.’

No matter what Louis does, he can’t shake these flaws, he can’t stop thinking about them. Every time Harry’s lips press against his cheek, every time Harry laughs at one of Louis’ jokes, every time Harry tells Louis they should go to a movie, or go out to eat or go see a play – it’s always there, in the back of Louis’ mind, like an itch he can’t quite scratch.

He knows soon all this will bottle up, the pressure slowly increasing until he explodes. Louis just doesn’t know when that day will come.

*~*

It occurs exactly 4 day, 2 hours, and 5 minutes later.

The worst part was, the day actually started off _good._

It starts when Harry gets a call from Nick Grimshaw, a radio personality who happened to be at Leeds Fest listening to Harry’s set.

He invites Harry down to London to record a new demo CD to show record company executives Nick has connections to.

Harry has to be gone for up to 5 months.

Louis learns all this one lazy Sunday afternoon while playing Life with Harry _‘because I want to know how many kids I have Lou.’_

At first Louis is excited for Harry, because of course he is. Harry gets to chase his dream, gets to do what he’s always wanted to.

Launching himself over the game board and into Harry’s arms, Louis mutters, “You’ll do brilliant, you’re bound to be a star, you already are a star,” his face pressed against Harry’s shoulder.

After insisting that Harry must take a picture with Louis and give Louis his autograph _‘because you’ll be famous one day Haz and I want the world to know I was your first fan’_ everything begins to go downhill.

“The reason you’re the first person I’m telling,” Harry begins, “is because I want you to come down to London with me. I mean only for the summer. Unless you wanted to stay longer. I’m not going to push you into anything. I mean your whole life is here and –“

Harry’s ramble is cut off by Louis, “Are you asking me to move with you to London, just get up and leave? You do know that summer is almost over right?”

“Well you see, that’s the thing Lou, I was thinking that you might stay in London with me for all 5 months…” Harry mutters slowly.

“And leave everything here, Harry my life is here, I didn’t even know you were thinking about moving in with me, let alone moving in with me in a completely new place!”

“It’s just,” Harry stops to formulate what he is going to say before continuing, “I like you, I really like you, I really really _really_ like you. All I can think about is you and wanting to kiss you and wanting to give you everything good in the world, I want to be able to call you mine, I want to give this a shot; I want to make _us_ happen.”

Harry looks at Louis through his eyelashes, the green irises of his eyes sparkling as he nervously awaits a reply.

Louis can feel his mind moving at lightning speed, all of the reasons him and Harry shouldn’t be together rising to the surface. He can feel his brain shutting down, the filter between his mouth and his mind completely shut off (as if he had much of a filter before) and suddenly everything he has been fearing is rushing out of him like water speeding down a stream.

“I’m horrible Harry, I’m horrible for you. I’ve hurt you and you’ve still decided to overlook that and forgive me. You’ve somehow forgiven me for all the torture I put you through, years and years and years.”

“Because I want to be with you Louis. Because I chose to forgive you and I stand by my choice.” Harry’s voice is rising, louder and louder.

“Now I’m choosing, I’m choosing to relieve you from having to defend me for every bad thing I’ve ever done to you. I can’t give you want you want, I can’t offer you everything you deserve” Louis says, attempting to keep his voice even, but he knows Harry can still hear it shaking.

“Stop acting like I’m perfect, I can’t offer you everything you want either, that’s why relationships are about compromise.” Harry reasons, his eyes filled with rage.

“Stop defending me. I can’t change who I am.”

“I'm not sorry that I forgave you. I'm not sorry that this summer has been the best time of my life – all because I got to spend it with you. I’m not sorry that I want you to come to London with me. You've been a terrible person and I know you’re not perfect. You've made a lot of mistakes, and of all the mistakes that I've made, this may be the biggest of my life, but I am not sorry that I'm in love with you.”

“Well then stop loving me.” Louis immediately regrets the words as soon as they escape his lips. He can see the pain in Harry’s eyes, he can see the pain his denial has caused. This was never supposed to happen.

“I can’t.”

Suddenly Harry is pulling Louis forward, his lips smashing against Louis’ with a force he never knew Harry possessed. He can almost feel the anger and defeat Harry was suffering through the kiss, Harry’s muscles tense as he grips Louis tightly. Louis knows he shouldn’t be giving in to this, he knows he just told Harry to fuck off, but he finds himself giving in and letting go, his lips moving with Harry’s with an unexpected vigor. Harry’s lips slide smoothly over Louis’, his hand traveling to the back of Louis’ head to pull him closer so their bodies are pressed together. Louis can feel Harry’s heart beat slow down against his chest as the kiss gradually transforms from one filled with anger and sudden passion to a soft one, driven by want and lust.

Louis thinks he has never been kissed so sweetly in his life. Harry doesn’t press his tongue into Louis’ mouth, or bite harshly against Louis’ lips. Rather, he kisses Louis slowly, his lips slotting perfectly between Louis’, almost as if they were built for each other. Harry’s hand makes it to Louis’ face, cupping his cheek, tenderly stroking a line with his thumb from Louis’ temple to the bottom of his chin.

He can feel his brain slowing down, processing his current situation less and less until all Louis can think about is _Harry, lips, kissing, more, more, more._

It feels as though they’ve been kissing for hours, months, years. He never wants this to end.

His wish isn’t granted as Harry slowly pulls away, his forehead resting lightly against Louis’, his eyes still hooded with pleasure.

Louis can feel his mind rebooting, all the aftermath the kiss will cause roaring towards him.

The waves crashed down upon him, like tsunami tides, hitting him one after the other with the realization that he had just kissed Harry, Harry who he had just spent 10 minutes yelling at and then 10 years making out with.

Louis shoved Harry away, his heart racing as he realized the mistake he had just made.

“Lou-“ Harry began to plead, but he was cut off by Louis’ frantic voice.

“I shouldn’t have done that. My first kiss with you was supposed to be perfect and sweet – and not this. Actually, I wasn’t even supposed to kiss you in the first place. This was a mistake. All of this was a mistake. I should have never let myself get this close to you. We were a mistake Harry.”

The tears start streaming down Louis’ face before he can even comprehend that he’s crying. They run down his cheeks and splash into his lap, large sobs shaking Louis’ body.

“You’re just going to sit here and tell me that the entire summer was a mistake, that everything we’ve done, overcoming our hatred, was a _mistake?!_ Fuck you. I thought this meant something more to you, I thought you actually considered me a friend, maybe even something more. God I’m so _stupid,_ ” Harry spits the last word out like it’s poison.

Louis has never actually seen Harry get really angry before, let alone yell. Even when Louis used to play the most outrageous pranks on him, Harry would just laugh it off, or string some curse words together.

This was a whole new side of Harry that, frankly, scared Louis. Harry was pacing around the room, hands in his hair, pulling at it like it was the only thing stopping him from throwing something at Louis.

Harry began to speak again, anger dripping off of every word that left his mouth. “I guess I was just a toy for you huh?! A little summer game?! _Oh let’s see if we can get little old Harry to fall for me, how funny would that be?_ Well guess what, I’m not going to play by your rules anymore.”

“Haz – please you know it’s not like that! Harry please just -” Harry doesn’t listen, pushing past Louis and out the door, slamming it loudly behind him.

And then Louis is left alone with only his warm tears and an empty flat to comfort him.

*~*

Harry leaves for London two days later.

It’s not until he leaves that Louis realizes how much Harry had consumed his life over the past few months.

Louis can’t make a cup of tea without Harry’s favorite mug – the one with Snoopy on it – staring at him mockingly in his cupboard. He’s stopped sleeping in his bed, it smells too much like Harry, all strawberry shampoo mixed with boy, and it feels cold without someone to cuddle up with. Instead, Louis sleeps in Zayn’s bed. Not that it matters anyways, Zayn hasn’t been home at all since he left on a retreat with that Disobedient Kid or whatever his name is. Louis even begins to avoid brushing his teeth, Harry’s blue toothbrush a reminder of the mornings when they would get ready together, using their toothbrushes as microphones to sing along to the Grease soundtrack.

Everything smells like Harry and feels like Harry and reminds Louis of Harry, but Louis can’t get himself to leave the flat.

Liam and Niall continuously called him, but he never answered his phone – left it lying next to the toaster where he had put it the day _it_ had happened. Soon his phone stops ringing. Maybe it died, or maybe they just stopped caring.

Louis needs to get the hell out of this flat, needs to get the hell away from his friends and go somewhere where everything doesn’t reek of Harry fucking Styles.

He knows there’s only one place he can go. One place that’s Harry free, one place where the people there won’t question him, won’t even know he’s gotten close to Harry.

So he grabs his duffel bag from the back of his closet where it’s been collecting dust. It was the bag he used to use when he was on his high school footie team, TOMLINSON written across the side in bold lettering.

He quickly grabs as many articles of clothing that have no connection to Harry – which is harder said than done – and stuffs them into the bag.

All that he manages to get into his bag is 2 shirts, and a pair of joggers, everything else in his wardrobe Harry had either stolen at some point and worn, or was related to memories of Harry one way or another.

The swim suit Louis wore the day Harry was a lifeguard, the outfits Louis wore during Leeds Fest, even Louis’ footie uniform all held too many memories to even consider wearing again.

Louis throws his toothbrush and a random CD into his bag, and then he’s off; leaving his dead phone behind as the door shuts after him.

It’s after 10 minutes on the road when Louis pulls out the CD he brought, only to realize it’s an Arctic Monkeys CD, a CD Harry lent him because _they’re absolutely mental Lou, you’ve gotta listen to at least one song._ Throwing the CD into his back seat, Louis turns the radio on, looking for anything to stop him from being alone with his thoughts.

The DJ on the radio introduces himself and of course. Of fucking course. Out of all the channels possible, Louis somehow landed on the one Nick Grimshaw worked for.

“This artist is someone I’ve recently fallen in love with. His name is Harry Styles and I’ve actually talked him into hanging with me in London for a while to record some new tunes. Until then you’re going to have to listen to this next song, a cover he sang during Leeds Fest. Enjoy.”

Suddenly Louis’ car is filled with the sound of Harry’s voice. Harry’s voice singing the song he dedicated to Louis.

How dare Nick Grimshaw say he’s _fallen in love_ with Harry. He has no right. What does he know about love, what does he know about _Harry._

He can’t just say he loves Harry, throwing the word around like it means nothing.

Not just anybody gets to just say they _love_ Harry. Loving Harry is a privilege, you’ve got to earn it; you’ve got to deserve it.

Louis didn’t deserve it and he doubts this poofy-haired peacock deserves it.

Louis bets he doesn’t even know that Harry likes to be the little spoon. Or that Harry calls his mom every Thursday because that’s the day she gets home from work early. That Harry likes to wear ‘girl’ clothes because he says they come in cooler patterns than ‘guy’ clothes. The way Harry starfishes in bed when he first wakes up, all of his limbs stretched out as far as possible. The way his eyes get brighter when you mention babies. Or that he loves to do yoga and wants three kids and a dog and is so so lovely.

Harry is in Louis’ car and in his head and in his heart and how dare this Grimshaw bloke even consider being in love with him.

Louis shuts the radio off furiously, Harry’s voice disappearing and leaving Louis alone with his thoughts.

Which might be worse than leaving the radio on.

*~*

“Surprise!” Louis yells as he pulls the familiar oak door open.

Immediately, four bodies collide into his, grabbing onto him and holding him tight, a shrill chorus of “Louis!” following.

He drops his bag by his feet, squatting down to meet his attackers.

The room is filled with _look at how old you look_ and _is that a new haircut_ and _pull that shirt up, lets whisper desperate, not shout it_ and _get off me you urchins._

The ruckus is broken by a voice that Louis missed too much, the feeling of home, a warm hug and happiness, rolled up into one.

“Well look what the cat dragged in.”

“Mom.” Louis sighs, melting into her hug, his arms wrapped tightly around her, feeling the weight of the past few days slowly putting less pressure on Louis’ heart.

“I’m going to pretend like you’re here just because you missed us, but I know it’s more than that.”

Louis begins to protest but his mom cuts him off again. “Don’t worry boo bear, we’ll discuss it later.”

Louis sighs in relief, releasing his mother. He didn’t want to have to think about Harry any more, he didn’t want to have to talk about the summer, how close he got to Harry, how hard he fell, how much he’s hurting. He just wants to forget about everything and play tea party with Daisy.

For a moment he feels guilty. Guilty because he knows he should visit more often, especially with his mom currently being pregnant with the new twins. Guilty because home is so close, yet he doesn’t visit nearly as often as he should his trip to the pool with his siblings feeling like it was years ago. He should be coming home every weekend, cooking for his mom and distracting the kids so she can take care of herself, treating her to spa days and mani-pedis.

The moment fades as his mom presses a kiss to his cheek, leaving him to the will of his four sisters.

He begins to get pulled in four different directions - Lottie wanting to tell him about her new celebrity crush on some new boy band member, Fizzy having the urge to try DIY nail art on him, Phoebe going on about the new additions to her stuffed animal collection, Daisy wanting him to help her color images of zebras with her.

By the end of the night he’s got hair chalk in his fringe, kitten temporary tattoos covering his arms and he’s heard the entire discography of that stupid boyband One Direction that Lottie won’t stop talking about.

She shows him her favorite member – Hardin. Of course he has to look like Harry, curly hair, dimples the size of craters, lanky. Louis guesses his family has a type, attempting to quell the sadness blooming inside of him again.

After dinner, Louis curls up on the couch, blanket swaddled around him, the day’s activities finally catching up to him. His mom sits down beside him and runs his hair through her fingers, knowing that it calms him down.

“When you’re ready to tell me, you know you can.” She whispers into his hair.

“Thank you.” Louis whispers back, sitting up to give his mom a kiss on the head, quickly bending down to place two more kisses on her pregnant belly.

“I love all three of you.” He states, his mom cracking a smile, before he heads off to bed.

It’s always weird when he walks into his room at his family’s house because it hasn’t changed for a good 5 years. The bed is still dressed in his Pokémon sheets from secondary school, soccer trophies from primary school still littering his bookshelf.

As Louis climbs under the sheets, he realizes that this room, this house, might be the only constant in his life. The only thing that didn’t grow up when he did.

*~*

“Louis, we are getting you a new wardrobe.” His mother insists, giving him a stern you-can’t-say-no look.

It had been 4 days of Louis wearing the same pair of joggers and holey _The Fray_ t-shirt before his mom had gotten suspicious and he had to admit that he had only brought 3 articles of clothing home with him.

He sighs in defeat and piles into his mother’s minivan with her, turning the radio on to try and avoid what he knows is coming.

A sappy pop tune with a horrible beat fills the car. At least it’s not Nick Grimshaw, Louis decides as he turns the radio up and leans back in his seat.

The artist in the song begins to sing about finding love in a grocery store when his mom turns the radio off and turns to Louis, clearing her voice.

“You don’t have to explain yet, but you could at least catch me up on the rest of your life innit.”

Louis cracks a smile and begins to talk. He tells her about the classes he’s taking the upcoming semester, about Zayn and his writing buddy, his new obsession with the fried rice from the Chinese restaurant near his flat. He feels so at ease with his mom, he knows he can tell her anything and everything, could tell her about murdering someone and she would stay calm and understanding. He can feel the warmth from her smile radiating through the car when she laughs at a joke he cracks.

pHis favorite part is when she begins to tell stories about the kids. Giggling as she talks about when Daisy and Phoebe poured lemonade over their hair and shone flashlights on it to try and bleach it. Going on to talk about Lottie getting gum in her hair and crying about it for half an hour straight. The time when Fizzy attempted to bake a cake but forgot it was in the oven.

By the time they reach the mall, Louis’ cheeks hurt and he’s clutching his stomach, bent over with laughter.

*~* 

He tells her between two racks of clearance jeans.

He tells her about Harry and Liam, Niall and Zayn pushing them closer. Harry at Leeds, flowers in his hair and guitar strapped across his shoulder. She listens as he gushes about the way Harry cooked for him every morning, how he used to nuzzle into the crook of Louis’ neck whenever he was too tired to get out of bed, all the times he thought about kissing Harry but didn’t. He tells her about their first, and only kiss, about their falling out, about how Harry deserves someone better. Going on for a solid 10 minutes, he lists all the reasons he didn’t and still doesn’t deserve him.

She waits a while after he’s done talking to think about what she wants to reply. Finally she answers with a simple, “Relationships are about compromise honey, you have things that you think are drawbacks, reasons you aren’t perfect for him, and I’m sure he finds drawbacks in himself too. Don’t expect perfection.

A few minutes later she speaks again, adding “Boo bear, you’ve got things to offer him that he doesn’t even know he wants.”

He hugs his mom tightly and hopes he never has to let go.

*~*

Louis hasn’t seen Stan for almost a year. He remembers primary school when they were inseparable, their mothers joking that they were one person.

So when Stan walks through his mother’s front door with a pack of beer and every season of One Tree Hill, Louis hugs him as tightly as possible.

He tells Stan in between episodes, Stan listening intently as the light from the TV casts their faces in a light glow .

He talks about how his pranks against Harry slowly turned nicer and nicer until they stopped. How he got close to Harry, and before he knew it he was falling.

“Why’d you send him off if you were just going to be sad about seeing him go?” Stan asks simply, the answer isn’t as simple as the question though.

“Because that’s what he needed, still needs. He needs someone that’s not me. As much as I wanted for it happen, it can’t because I want what’s best for him. Besides, it’s too late now, he’s gone.”

“It’s never too late!’ Stan argues. “If something makes you happy you need to chase it, you can’t let it go.”

“It’s too late!” Louis shouts, gritting his teeth, his knuckles turning white.

“Let me tell you a story. Don’t talk, don’t say anything, just listen.” Stan demands, Louis just nodding in agreement.

“In university, my mom participated in an exchange program and was able to have a semester at NYU, a university in the states. While she was there, she took a pottery class that my dad was taking. One day his project was cooking with hers in the kiln and exploded, running both of their projects. He promised that he would help her re-make her project, and he did. They spent every class period after that working together on her piece, and they fell proper for each other. Except neither of them did anything about it. Before they knew it, my mom was headed back overseas to Man U, leaving my dad behind and they were still just friends. A week after she left my dad realized how miserable he was without her, so he flew out here and the rest was history.” Stan smiles at the memory, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“My point is, my dad realized that he was miserable without her, even though she had already left, even though it might have been too late, she made him happy and so he went and he told her how he felt. And if he hadn’t I wouldn’t exist right now.”

The gears begin to turn inside Louis’ head. Stan is right. Harry makes Louis happy, Louis is miserable without him, Louis needs to get to him, tell him how he feels.

He runs into his room, beginning to throw everything into a bag, Stan standing behind him in the doorway smiling.

“I’ve got to get to the train station, I’ve got to tell him, I’m going to tell him, I’m going right now.” Louis gets more frantic the more time passes, he’s going to see Harry, he’s going to tell Harry that he was wrong, that he wants them to give it a go, that he thinks they can work.

Soon Louis is flying out of his room, his bag slung over one shoulder, Stan hot on his heels.

“Mom I’m going to win him back!” Louis yells, about to run out the door. He stops in his tracks, turning around to pull Stan into a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Go save your princess!” Stan yells as Louis exits the door and hops into his car.

Halfway to the train station, Louis decides he needs to turn the radio on, that he needs some pump up music.

The station he lands on is having a small gossip segment, the usual who’s pregnant, who’s fucking who, etc.

Louis is about to change the channel when he hears Harry’s name. He knows he should change it, that this can only end badly, but he can’t get himself to, he wants to know if Harry is okay.

“New talent Harry Styles gets heated in a bar in downtown London with the person helping him skyrocket to fame, Nick Grimshaw. The two were seen sexually dancing with each other, and Harry was even seen leaving the radio host’s house the next morning. Could this be a close friendship or a new fling? We guess the latter.”

Louis pulls the car over and shuts the radio off, his breathing rapidly speeding up. How could he be so stupid just to think that he could go to London and make everything better? How could he just think that Harry would take him back with open arms? He wanted Harry to move on, to find someone better than Louis, so why did it hurt so much when he did exactly that?

He should have never done this, gotten his hopes up just to have them crash back down to earth right in front of him.

All Louis can think to do is turn the car around and drive back to Doncaster. He doesn’t think he can go back home though, back to people expecting answers, an explanation. He decides just to head back to his flat instead.

He pulls off the freeway and drives up to a gas station, parking the car and hopping out.

He goes into a phone booth, the summer heat steaming the windows. For a few minutes he fishes for coins in his pocket, before finding the correct change and pushing it into the machine as he pushes in the correct number.

The phone rings for a few minutes before he can hear someone pick up.

“Hello?”

“Stan, he’s gone, he’s moved on, it’s too late.”

He hangs up as Stan is about to answer.

*~*

For a while, Louis doesn’t know how he should feel towards Harry. When he thinks about it too much all he feels is emptiness.

As time goes on, he’s mad that he doesn’t know how to feel, which snowballs into him being mad at Harry.

Mad that he moved on so quickly. Mad that he was able to let go while Louis was still desperately holding on. Louis was enraged that Harry was able to look so happy, when Louis was dying inside.

He won’t admit it but he may have stooped so low as to look up the pictures of Nick and Harry at the club.

He is even more angry that Harry is still adorably cute, his eyes still as green, his hair still as curly, his dimples still as prominent. Except, somehow moving to London, chasing his dream, has somehow aged Harry. Not in an extremely noticeable way, but in a way that only Louis would pick up on. His eyes were still green, but they no longer held the boyish mischief that they used to; instead filled with a hard indifference.

They were probably like that because Harry had a job to do, or maybe it was the flash from the paps cameras. Louis felt guilty for hoping that it was because Harry missed him.

Slowly, Louis’ life is consumed by his anger. He completely shuts everything and everyone else out leaving himself alone in the flat with his rage. It slowly seeps into him, like water to a flower. It becomes his fuel, the only way he can get up every morning without wanting to curl into a ball and stay there.

He calls Harry names, blames him for everything, even considers printing a picture of Harry out and using it as a dart target; but he’s not that cliché.

When his computer dies, somehow it’s Harry’s fault, when the Chinese restaurant by his flat runs out of orange chicken, somehow Harry is to blame.

Mostly he blames Harry for screwing up his life. He had everything down to a science, every day following the same pattern and he liked it that way.

Until Harry had to come into his life like a hurricane, leaving his life as fast as he came with a trail of disaster following him.

He couldn’t prank Harry every month like he used to. He couldn’t attempt to trip Harry every time they passed each other as Louis headed to his curriculum development class. He wasn’t even allowed to make fun of Harry every time Niall talked him into baking something for him.

He guesses he can just stay in his room and plot his revenge for the rest of his life.

*~*

Louis is in the middle of deciding whether or not planning a revenge prank against Harry would be worth-while when he hears the door to the flat slowly unlocking.

For a second he begins to get scared. Nobody has the key to their flat, except for Louis of course. He thinks it might be Niall or Liam, but he vetoed that option when he remembers that Niall lost the key to their flat in the campus fountain one night when he was drunk and they never bothered to replace it.

The door creaks open and he can hear a voice that had begun to sound foreign to him.

“Zayn Javadd Malik wherein the fuck have you been?”

Zayn rounds the corner and Louis realizes that this is the first time that they have come face to face in almost a month. Zayn’s hair is longer now, held back by a hair tie, a faint sprinkle of stubble aging him.

“Oh my god Lou you look like shit, what happened to you?” Zayn questions as he takes in the flat, a sour look on his face almost as if he smells something rancid. He probably does.

“Harry happened to me.” Louis states, he tries to make it sound as nonchalant as possible, like nothing is wrong, when in fact, everything is wrong.

“Oh okay, that,” Zayn laughs airily, “Niall and Liam told me about that one, is it really that bad though, you two weren’t even a thing.”

Louis can feel himself tensing up, coiling like a spring ready to snap, his defense mechanism.

“I mean honestly bro, who spends the whole summer pining over someone just to break their heart, and then blame them when you feel bad cause they actually took your advice?!”

Louis can feel himself snapping, can’t contain his anger anymore.

“How dare you, how dare you come back to the flat after so many weeks, without even knowing the situation because you haven’t been here, and tell me I’m overreacting! Where were you Zayn? Why weren’t you here when this was happening? You have no right to make comments when you’ve been goodness knows where doing goodness knows what. You didn’t see what happened! You don’t know anything!”

Louis is yelling now, tears streaming down his face. He can feel his body shaking and he can’t seem to get himself to stop.

Where was the Zayn he used to be friends with, brothers with? What happened to the Zayn that stayed up all night with him their first semester of university watching a Zac Efron movie marathon because Louis had convinced himself that he would never be able to get a guy? Zayn who used to let Louis slip into his bed when he was sad, or scared, or alone, or just didn’t want to go to bed alone.

Louis didn’t know who the guy standing across from him was, but it was not the Zayn he used to know.

“Speaking of mate,” Zayn says, playing with the zipper on his jacket, as if the crying mess in front of him meant nothing. Maybe it did mean nothing.

“I actually didn’t come to make sure you were okay or whatever. To be honest I thought you were being a drama queen like normal. I’m actually here to pack up some stuff. I’m transferring this year to a school in Manchester with Sahid. It’s the best school in the world for writing and he says if we go there then we’ll be able to get a book deal easy.”

Louis can feel himself collapsing. Zayn was something that he could count on. Never would he think Zayn would leave him, let alone leave him for someone that he hadn’t known for nearly as long as he had known Louis.

“Who the hell is Sahid?! What about us, what about everything we’ve been through?! Does Sahid buy condoms for you because you’re too embarrassed? Does he watch Cupcake Wars with you even though he hates it, but he puts up with it ‘cause you like it?” The tears start streaming even faster out of Louis’ eyes, he thinks he might drown himself. He hopes he’ll cry a river and it’ll sweep him away from his problems. He imagines there’s a Justin Timberlake pun somewhere in there.

“Naughty Boy Louis, he’s Naughty Boy. Honestly, I’m a big boy now, I can make my own decisions. The role of my mother has already been taken. But thanks for the help.” Zayn rolls his eyes and starts picking at his nails. Louis has never felt so small in his life.

“Why do you have to do this to me right now? Right now is when I need you the most Zayn! Can’t you see I’m hurting? I need your advice, I need your support right now Zayn. Please.” Louis is whispering now, curled in upon himself on the couch, Zayn standing opposite him.

“Want advice Louis? Here it is; you want to be with Harry, you can’t stop thinking about him, he makes you happy, you can’t function without him. You love him. Go be with him. It’s honestly not that hard to understand.”

Zayn does understand. It’s not that simple, there are so many different layers, so many different reasons why it can’t be that way.

“It’s not that easy Zayn and you know that.” Louis reasons, the tears finally stopping.

“Yes it is Louis, I can give you advice but I can’t help the fact that you make mountains out of mole hills.”

Zayn sighs and begins to turn away into his room.

“Remember when we were friends, when we promised we would stick together, no matter what, through thick and thin? Remember when you promised that you would always be there for me, no matter who left me, you would still be there?” Louis pleads. He can’t have Zayn and Harry both leave him, he can’t lose these many people at once.

Zayn turns around, Louis can see the anger in his eyes. For a second Louis is happy that he was able to rile Zayn up, get him so noticeably upset.

“Remember when you had a life and stopped making bitchy comments about mine.”

“Fuck you.” Louis hisses, jumping up from the couch, grabbing his keys and walking out the flat, slamming the door behind him.

*~*

After wandering around campus aimlessly for a few hours, Louis makes it back to the flat, his hand shaking as he unlocks the door and opens it.

The flat feels alien, everything that was Zayn’s now gone. His bed is stripped of its sheets, the wall that used to house all of his art bare except for nails where his canvases used to hang. Everything looked emptier, Zayn having taken everything that he owned even (god damn him) Fifa.

The emptiness Louis’ heart is almost as noticeable as the emptiness of the flat.

Louis needs to get out. He needs to get his mind off of everything, needs to have fun, needs to remind himself that he still has friends that love him. He needs to go clubbing.

It’s not until he’s standing in front of his closet, all of his clothes in heaps around him that he realizes that he hasn’t gone out to a club in so long. He has no idea how to dress, how to style his hair, how to act.

30 minutes and a few Google searches later and Louis is content with his outfit choice. He decided on a red scoop neck shirt and tight black skinny jeans, a pair of vans to top it all off. It says _I’m sexy and I know it, I bet you like my collarbones, I know I have a great butt,_ and _I know how to have fun all at the same time without screaming desperate._ Perfect.

10 more minutes and his hair is artfully swept up in a quiff and his phone is finally charging in the bathroom next to him.

“You look hot. You are going to have fun and you are going to get piss drunk.” Louis says aloud, pointing to himself in the mirror.

He pulls his phone away from the charger and looks at it for the first time in what feels like forever.

He has 70 missed calls, his voice mailbox is full and he’s gotten almost 100 text messages.

All the texts were from Liam, Niall and his mother. There were a few from Stan asking about Louis’ payphone call.

He ignored all the missed texts and calls and went straight to his phone keypad, typing in the familiar number.

The call goes how Louis expected it too; Liam yelling at him, putting Niall on the phone, Niall yelling at him. Louis apologizes again and again, tells them that he just needed a little break. He tells Liam and Niall how sorry he is and _shit, I don’t think you know how horrible I feel._

They understand that he needed some time away from it all, away from things that remind Louis of _him_ , know that meant he needed to get away from Liam and Niall too. They don’t forget to point out that he should have at least called, and he agrees. The sincerity rings in Louis’ voice and he knows Liam will understand that he genuinely feels guilty for what he’s put Liam and Niall through over the past few weeks.

Liam and Niall forgive him, but tell Louis that he’s going to have to work hard to get back into their good graces.

Louis insists they go clubbing, on him, cutting Liam off when he tries to reason with Louis.

He tells them to meet him outside the club on Third Street in 10 minutes and hangs up before they can try and talk him out of it.

It only takes him 6 minutes to walk down to the club, so he spends the next 4 leaning against one of its walls trying to look cool as people enter in and out of the double doors, music shaking the exterior of the building.

Finally he sees Liam and Niall rounding the corner, and a smile breaks out on his face. It’s Louis’ first genuine smile in a while, he really did miss them.

Liam is wearing a sensible white shirt and jeans, a flannel keeping him warm from the chilled night air. Louis can’t help but think he looks like a right carpenter, or handyman or some other form of Bob the Builder. Maybe chicks dig that stuff now.

Niall on the other hand looks like he just stepped out of a frat house. A red snapback is perched perfectly backwards on his head, a bright red tank top hanging loose on his shoulders to match.

Louis breaks out into a sprint, running towards them even though they haven’t noticed him yet.

He doesn’t care if he’s making a scene, all he cares about is the fact that he really wants to give his two best friends hugs.

Niall is the first to notice him, pulling hard on Liam’s shirt until they’re both running towards Louis as well, faster and faster until they finally meet in the middle.

Louis launches himself into Liam’s arms, almost plowing him down to the ground, Niall jumping on Louis from the back so the two boys sandwich Louis between them.

“Missed you so much, never do that again, missed you so much.” Liam and Niall mutter into him.

Liam strokes his hair and Niall nuzzles into his back and Louis has never felt so safe.

They stand there for a good handful of minutes, the two boys refusing to let Louis go until someone bumps into them muttering about public displays of affection.

When they finally release, Niall forces Louis to turn around to make sure nothing happened to him while he was MIA.

“Just want to make sure you still got all your limbs,” he explains easily.

Louis can tell the two boys want an explanation, but he also knows that they won’t force it out of them, knows that they’ll give him time. They’re already walking on eggshells around him, he can tell. Liam no doubt having told Niall not to mention anything about Harry.

They deserve an explanation, and they’ll get one in due time, but right now Louis needs to get drunk.

“All right boys, who’s ready to get shit faced?” Louis cheers, pulling Liam and Niall into the club with him.

Immediately they are surrounded by sweaty masses of bodies, jumping along to the music blasting through the club. Glasses are clinking and drinks are sloshing everywhere, down people’s backs and fronts and hands and arms.

Louis can already feel the music pumping through his blood, can feel all of his worries washing away and being replaced by the base thumping through the speakers.

He orders a round of shots for himself, Liam and Niall, downing his easily before calling for another round.

By his fourth shot his sentences blur together and his vision is hazy. He’s somehow made it onto the dance floor and pressed himself up against another guy, grinding into him in time to the music.

He thinks he could probably take this guy back to his flat, fuck him into the mattress and then kick him out before the sun rises, but this guy isn’t Harry.

Louis recognizes that the whole reason for him to come to the club was to get his mind off of Harry. But the longer he stays, the more he realizes that none of these guys compare to Harry. He looks around trying to find someone, anyone that he would be interested in, but he comes up with nothing.

None of them have great hair, or brilliant eyes or boyish features or lanky limbs, and none of them look like they are going to start telling really bad knock-knock jokes when they get drunk.

Louis knows that it’s not fair to him or any of the other guys in the room when he compares them to Harry, but he can’t help it.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever find anybody that’ll be able to be better than Harry. The thought scares Louis so he just keeps dancing.

*~*

“Liam I don’t need help getting back to my flat, I am perfectly capable thank you very much.” Louis slurs as Niall and Liam carry him out of the club and into the frigid night air.

Louis can see the sun starting to peak out from against the horizon. He wonders how long they were clubbing for. He can’t remember what time they got to the club, he can’t remember most of the night actually. Everything is a bit hazy, fuzzy around the edges. All Louis can piece together is heat, music, dancing, and alcohol. Maybe he isn’t as sober as he thought he was.

Liam sighs and ignores Louis, toting him along by one arm while Niall takes the other. Louis is fumbling over his own feet but he doesn’t care. For the first time in a long time the sadness and anger that usually press against his chest, suffocate him, are gone and even though his senses are fogged, he’s never felt so alive. He feels human again.

By the time Niall and Liam drag him back to his flat the adrenaline has worn down and he’s left tired and with a banging headache.

He knows he’s going to have a horrible hangover the next morning.

He can’t find the energy to care, and even if he could, he doesn’t think he would because even though he’ll be vomiting into his toilet, he can’t feel the Harry shaped hole in his heart.

Liam pushes Louis onto his bed and gets to work on stripping him of his shoes, instructing Niall to go get him some water and aspirin.

Louis has no idea how Liam can do this considering Liam drank just as much Louis did. He can’t get his brain to think about it too hard.

A few minutes later and Louis is curled up in his bed with nothing on but his boxers, sticky from swear and possibly vodka. Liam is on his left side, pressed up against his back, his arms wrapped protectively around Louis’ middle. Niall is on his right, turned to him so they’re face to face. Louis feels like he’s in a love sandwich, a cuddle igloo, a friendship bubble.

With Niall snoring softly into his ear and Liam’s hot breathe against his back, Louis vows never to distance himself from them again.

*~*

Louis makes going out clubbing with Niall and Liam a weekly excursion. Every Thursday he drags them out to a different club, and every night they drag him home and fall asleep with him, a mess of limbs and bodies.

Louis would make clubbing a nightly excursion if he could but Niall and Liam won’t go out with him _because I don’t want to barf every night_ and _do you know how much drinks cost?!_

One night he goes out by himself, but ends up waking up in the bed of a truck sitting in the parking lot next to the club, deciding that he’s just going to have to stick with Niall and Liam.

Soon the weekly clubbing isn’t enough. Louis can feel it losing its energy, losing its excitement. Slowly the pain is seeping back into him and he knows he needs to do something fast.

He starts to go out with random people. People whose numbers were collecting dust in his phone. Jerry who wanted him to join a frat, Nick from his Ceramic class last year (which he bombed), Justin who wanted to start a band with him.

By the end of the night he can’t remember their name, but it doesn’t matter because he has someone to drink with and pay for his taxi home.

Every night it’s a different person and soon he gets used to throwing up every morning.

Slowly his life falls into a routine; get drunk, sleep, puke, nurse a hangover, go out, repeat.

The worst is when the people he goes out with pick up someone and leave early with them, hand in hand, giggling as they press against each other into a cab.

Louis tries to find someone to take back to his flat, but every time he can’t. He can’t find anybody good enough to replace Harry.

The first thing he does is compare all the guys in the room to him, then he drinks because none of them will ever be as good as Harry and he just misses Harry so much.

He drinks until he can’t remember his own name, until everything fades away and he can forget what Harry did to him.

With every sip of alcohol he curses out loud to Harry, raises his glass and shouts about how he is having _so much fun without you_ or _bet Nick fucking Grimshaw couldn’t dance like this._

Slowly Liam and Niall stop going out with him every Thursday, claiming that they have to get ready for school. Louis doesn’t care, he just finds new people to party with.

Louis is on his third round of Advil when he can hear the door to his flat opening. He can hear Liam muttering about something and knows he’s about to get a lecture. He should have locked the door. Louis knew he forgot to do something.

Liam rounds the corner into Louis’ room and stands in front of the doorway, blocking it so Louis can’t escape.

“You need to get your act together Lou, school starts in 3 days, have you even gotten school supplies, or textbooks, or pencils?” Liam doesn’t bother with hellos or how are yous as he waits for Louis to reply.

“I know what I’m doing Liam, I am a grown man who doesn’t need you to babysit him.” Louis snaps, the words flowing hot off of his tongue.

“Look at yourself Louis, you’re a mess! When was the last time you showered? Or changed outfits? Or did something productive or positive?” Liam is shouting now, his hands clenched at his sides.

“I’m positive I got totally hammered last night and had a blast while doing it. Now leave me alone.” Louis quips, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip of water. Fighting and hangovers don’t mix as well as he hoped they would.

“I don’t care what you say anymore Louis! We need to get you back to normal.” Liam moves from the door to walk closer to Louis.

Louis cringes, getting ready for a blow he knows is going to hurt. To his surprise, instead of literally knocking some sense into him, Liam just keeps talking.

“We’re going to be setting some ground rules. For the next month you will be living with me and Niall. There will be no more drinking.” Liam pauses to push empty beer bottles into the trash can Louis keeps by his bed in case he can’t make it to the bathroom in time when his hangover hits.

“There will be no more going out unless it is to go to the store, and only if either Niall or I are accompanying you.” Liam adds, continuing to pick up empty bottles from around Louis’ rooms.

“You will join clubs or teams or get a job or do something so that you are not cooped up inside all day. And finally, you will get over him and won’t argue about anything with me or Niall.”

“Let me handle this the way I want to handle it!” Louis protests loudly.

“No Louis, I’m not taking any of this bullshit anymore. This is unhealthy and unproductive and I need you to listen to me.” Liam pleads, staring at Louis with the wide puppy eyes. He know those would screw him over one day.

Louis slowly stands up, head cast down as he walks to where Liam is standing.

“On one condition.” Louis mutters quietly. 

“Anything.” 

“You won’t make me join the Buffalo wings tasting club. I hate Buffalo wings.” 

Liam laughs loudly, “No promises.” 

*~*

School starts and Liam and Niall are helping Louis get his life back to normal. 

Niall wakes him up every morning at 9 o’clock for his drama curriculum class while Liam makes him breakfast. 

Liam sends Louis off with a sack lunch and a kiss on the forehead and Louis leaves to his classes. 

He meets a nice girl in his creative writing class named Eleanor and they start setting up study dates outside of school. 

Niall helps him with his homework and they sit at the counter every night snacking on crisps and working out math problems. 

He joins the drama club and applies for a job as a piano teacher for kids in elementary school. 

He gets the job and soon he’s got a handful of students he meets with on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

He starts visiting his mom every weekend, always bringing something Liam has cooked up, usually stir fry or something with veggies. 

Slowly, he opens up to Liam and Niall about Zayn leaving, and Harry with Nick, and everything that’s been bottled up inside of him. They hug him until the pain is almost bearable and they promise they’ll never leave him. 

Sometimes he still misses Harry and he knows the pain will never go away, so he learns to live with it. He knows not to look at magazines while shopping because one will have Harry on the cover. He’s learned not to listen to the radio, instead investing in an AUX cord for his car. He changes his lock screen from a picture of him and Harry at Leeds, to a default image of bubbles. 

His life is a well-oiled machine and he likes it that way. 

*~* 

Louis is happy and everyone around him seems to notice. It’s almost as if it’s radiating off of him, pouring out of every crevice of him body, oozing out of every pore.

The lady who always takes his tea order at the café says he looks better than ever, and he feels better than ever. He actually wants to get up every morning and _try._

The number of kids he’s teaching how to play the piano has almost doubled over the last three months and he couldn’t be happier. 

His grades are better than ever before and he’s even planning on moving back into his old flat soon. 

He knows that his life could fall back into what it used to be. Knows that at any moment he could slip back into the darkness that consumed him almost 5 months ago. He’s constantly living on the edge, keeping himself in line so he doesn’t let the hole in his heart grow bigger. 

Sometimes he slips up; lets himself indulge for just a minute. 

He lets himself think about bits of Harry, just for a few minutes, just so he can feel happy and nostalgic for a second. Harry’s eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks in the glow of the summer sun. The way Harry’s dimples used to double in size whenever Louis complimented him. How Harry would insist upon sitting in Louis’ lap even though he was 10 times Louis’ size.

It’s now that he realizes that he was – is still in love with Harry. That he was wrong for pushing him away. He has come to terms with the fact that he made the biggest mistake of his life, and that there’s nothing he can do about it. Louis understands that it’s too late to fix what has been broken for so long, and he is content to remember Harry fondly. But that doesn’t stop him from being curious about what Harry is doing. 

Occasionally Louis stoops so low he’ll stalk Harry on social media. His twitter followers ha reached almost a million. Louis learned that he had become addicted to spicy Cheetos, and that he was signed to a record company now, working on his new EP. He had posted a list of songs that might be on the EP and Louis knows a majority of them are about him.

One song is titled ‘Where do Broken Hearts Go.’ Louis wonders if Harry knows that his broken heart stayed right where it was, waiting for him to come back. 

Another is titled ‘Don’t Let Me Go’. Maybe the song is about Nick. Louis really hopes not. 

The worst is when Louis opens up his contact list and clicks on Harry’s name, which still has ten heart emojis next to it. Sometimes he clicks the call button, the rhythmic ringing pulsing through the phone. Every time, Harry picks up, whispering lowly, “Lou, Lou? Are you there?” Every time, Louis hangs up without saying anything. 

It’s in those moments when Louis takes on more students, or schedules a study date, or goes out to lunch with Liam. Anything to keep himself on the right track.

It’s on one of those lunch dates when Liam brings something up that Louis wanted to delay for as long as possible.

Liam is picking at his salad when he says it, hesitant because he knows Louis won’t want to hear it. 

“I think you should… Have you ever tried… Maybe it’s time for you to start seeing other people.” Liam mutters, pushing his fork back and forth through his salad.

“I don’t know Liam. It’s been so long and after what happened with Harry, I’m scared.” Louis sighs, taking a bite of his burger. 

“I thought we weren’t allowed to say his name.” Liam whispered slowly, confused. 

“It’s okay now Li, no point in being afraid of a name now is there? Not like it’s going to bite me.” Louis tries to play it off like it’s okay, even though the name still sends a wave of nausea through his body. 

Liam just shrugs and continues to play with his salad. “You should still seriously consider seeing someone. They don’t have to be your soulmate, you don’t even have to want to get their number after. Just one date Lou. Please, for me. Just think about it.” 

Louis nods because he knows how much this means to Liam. Knows how much Liam wants him to find a nice guy, to remember that Harry isn’t the only fish in the sea.

Louis agrees a week later. He tells Liam that it’s just to shut him up, but he’s secretly hoping that the guy might actually be a nice distraction. 

Liam sets him up with one of Niall’s friend’s friends, insisting that Louis will love him. Louis has his doubts. 

After half an hour of deciding what he should wear (how casual is a first date?) he finally decides on a light blue jumper, tight enough to hug his curves and thick enough to protect him from the winter chill. He leaves his hair down, thinking it makes him look fluffier, sweeter, less menacing. Maybe this guy has a thing for fluffy people.

Louis shows up at the restaurant 20 minutes late, reminding him why he never goes on dates. 

A waitress finally has to come over and help him to his table and the guy is already there, dressed in a loose red and grey striped shirt topped off with a black leather jacket. His head is down, looking at his phone in his lap and all Louis can tell is that he’s got brown hair. 

Louis walks over and clears his throat awkwardly. Red and grey shirt guy looks up startled, turning his phone off hurriedly and shoving it in his pocket. 

“Hi, I’m George.” Red and grey shirt guy says happily, smiling wide as Louis sits down. 

Of course. Of course Liam would set him up with someone who looks exactly like Harry. 

Sure this George fellow looks more like Harry circa 2010, but the similarities are uncanny. The curly hair, the dimples, George even has the same style as Harry. Dear lord what was Louis thinking. 

His mind is going miles a minute but he forces himself to take a deep breath and turn to George. 

“Louis.” He says smiling. 

He sits down awkwardly and doesn’t say a word for about a good 5 minutes, the only sounds coming from the music the parlor is playing and from the tables next to them – laughter, the clinking of forks. 

Finally George breaks the silence, asking Louis about his life. 

Louis knows he’s not giving it his all, knows that he should be nicer, more open, but he can’t not when George looks so much like his past.

George in turn tells him about his life. How he’s in a band trying to make the music thing work. He says that if music doesn’t work he wants to take over his family’s animal shelter so his parents can retire. 

5 slices later and Louis is starting to think that this date might not be half bad. Until everything falls apart. 

At first he doesn’t notice it, isn’t paying attention to the song until George points it out.

“Love this song. It’s quite new, by this sick lad named Harry Styles. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him. Anyways, the song’s about someone breaking his heart but he doesn’t want them to leave him, will always be waiting for them to come back to him. Loving someone that broke your heart is so romantically tragic, don’t you think?”

The color fades from Louis’ face, leaving him as white as a sheet.

He listens to the song playing softly through the parlors speakers and there’s no doubt Harry is the person singing. His voice is just as raspy as Louis remembers, crooning about sleeping alone. His voice is paired perfectly with a guitar and piano, complimenting each other perfectly. 

Louis listens, listens to Harry singing about _him._ He listens as Harry croons about missing Louis, waiting for Louis, wanting Louis back, wanting to be with Louis.

Suddenly everything is too much. Everything is flooding Louis’ mind and it feels like he’s drowning, searching for air, fighting for a breath. 

He can’t sit across from someone who looks like Harry while listening to Harry sing about missing him.

George doesn’t deserve any of this – Louis wasting his time, leading him on. That’s the worst thing, Louis knows George could love him, would love him, would treat him right, bring him flowers and cook him meals. 

He looks up at George hesitantly and he can tell George knows something is off. 

“You still love someone, someone who left you, someone who you still miss. I can see it in your eyes. And don’t feel guilty about it either, I should have known. Liam warned me, told me you got out of something that took a large emotional toll on you, but I still thought, I still thought…..”

Louis is about to cut George off, tell him he’s sorry, tell him anything, but George just keeps talking. 

“You love someone and maybe it ends and maybe you didn’t know you loved them while you were with them, but all you can think about is that person and the production you two put on, the romance play, the rom com, and even though it ended, and now it’s curtain call, at least you stole the show. At least you had the most magical experience of your life, the best ever. You can’t lose that, you have to go to that person, whoever they may be. You love them and if you don’t get them back, don’t even try, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” 

George smiles at Louis reassuringly as everything he says processes, and suddenly Louis knows what he has to do. His mind is playing the same thing on a constant loop – _train. London. Harry. Love. Harry. Harry. Harry._

Louis stands up suddenly, pushing his chair back and shaking the table. He walks to the opposite side of the table and presses a chaste kiss against George’s cheek.

“You are absolutely amazing, any guy would be lucky to have you, including me. You’re talented, smart, cute, funny, and ambitious, I hope you know that.” Louis speaks honestly, looking George in the eyes as he says so. 

George nods humbly and pulls Louis into a hug, whispering, “Now go get your man.” 

Then Louis is running, running through the restaurant and through the parking lot and to his car, and all he can think about is _Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry._

*~* 

The ride to the train station is excruciating. All Louis can do is bounce his leg up and down, up and down, his knee hitting the bottom of the steering wheel. He grips the wheel as tight as possible, his knuckles turning white, his hands clamming. What’s Harry going to think when he sees Louis? Will he want to see Louis? Will Louis even be able to find him?

At least this time Louis knows not to turn on the radio. 

The train ride is even worse than the car ride was. At least when he was in the car he had the opportunity to turn around if he chickened out or got too scared; he could just make a U-turn and drive back home. Now it’s too late, now he’s stuck on the train, stuck going to London and he can’t change his mind. 

He’s sitting next to an old lady and her son who are arguing about what they should have for dinner. Louis tries to focus on their conversation, get lost in _tuna not salmon mom, Jessica hates salmon_ so he doesn’t have to think about Harry and what he’s going to say. 

By the time the train pulls into the station Louis is shaking with nerves and the mother and son next to him have finally agreed on eating pasta. 

He’s out of the train and in a taxi and he’s telling the driver to take him to Marshall Teller Records. He doesn’t even know if Harry will be there, all he knows is that Harry is signed there, that Harry has a chance of being there, and that’s all he needs, hope, a slim chance. 

The Record Label is big and looms over him ominously, all greys and blacks and dark shadows. 

Louis is so close he can feel it, can taste it, can see Harry standing across from him, running into his arms, everything being okay, everything will be okay.

He starts running, pushing through people walking along the sidewalk. They’ll understand, he reasons, it’s for love. Suddenly he’s running into someone, someone with a tray of Starbucks in their hand. The coffee explodes across Louis’ chest, covering him in sugared lattes and whipped cream. 

“Oops!” The person gasps as he turns in attempt to help clean Louis up. 

The person’s eyes travel from Louis’ stained front up to his eyes. 

Louis’ breath catches in his throat.

“Hi.” Louis whispers. 

Harry is standing across from him clad in a sherpa jacket and white v-neck, his hair tied back in a tight bun, looking at him, his green eyes flicking from Louis to the ground, almost as if he’s checking that Louis is actually in front of him. After so many months, almost a half a year, it’s like getting a fresh breath of air after drowning for so long.

Louis flashes back to the beginning of the summer when he and Harry both uttered the same two words after crashing into each other at Camp Lakewood. Maybe fate does exist. 

Every emotion possible hits Louis at once. He’s happy and sad and scared and terrified and nervous all wrapped up into one mass of sensations, reaching from his head to his toes, snaking into his hands and his fingers. 

Neither of them say anything, just look at each other, taking each other in. Harry feels miles away even though Louis could reach out and touch him. Louis soaks everything up, wants everything committed to memory.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” Harry quizzes, tugging nervously at his jacket. 

“I want to.” And it’s true, he does, wants to take a mental image of Harry and save it away for later. Wants to be able to close his eyes and see Harry. 

“Why?” Now Harry is stepping closer and that should give Louis more relief, make him feel better, but all it does is make it harder to breath. 

“Because I don’t know how long this is going to last, if you’re even real. And before you disappear again I at least want to know what you look like.” 

Louis takes a step towards Harry and now they’re toe to toe, the Starbucks Harry spilled long forgotten on the concrete. Louis reaches out tentatively, his hand cupping Harry’s face, “The way your eyelashes cast shadows on your face when you look down. How green your eyes are, and how they get darker around the edges. Your nose. The way your lips seem to change color like you’re changing lipsticks. The slight arch of your eyebrows. Your jawline and the two freckles near it. The fact that you can’t grow anything more than a slight 5 o’clock shadow. Your dimples.” Louis’ thumb traces each feature as he talks about it, gently and with care as he admires everything about Harry. 

Harry flushes red, closing his eyes and turning away from Louis’ touch. Louis thinks this might hurt more than Harry leaving him. 

“Louis you can’t… You can’t just come and do this…” Harry is stuttering now, can’t form a coherent sentence. 

 

“You know, you’re right. I’m so sorry that was rude of me. Might we be able to talk somewhere?” Louis pulls his hand away from Harry’s face so fast it’s almost as if it burned him.

He holds it by his side, resisting every nerve in his body telling him to reach out, to touch Harry, to never let go. 

*~* 

Louis is in Harry’s new London flat. Louis is also in Harry’s clothes due to the fact that his were ruined by sugar coffee and he didn’t think to bring anything to London with him except some money and his phone. 

He imagined that Harry’s flat would be extremely modern and posh but it’s not. The first bedroom has nothing but one couch in it that’s been pulled out into a bed, red sheets unmade across it. The second bedroom has been turned into a homemade studio, mattresses pressed up against the walls in an attempt to soundproof the room. The flat is in no means shabby, or a dump, but it doesn’t feel like Harry would consider it home. All his clothes are still in suitcases and boxes, open against one of his bedroom walls. His bathroom is bare except for a toothbrush and a bar of soap. Even the kitchen has nothing in it except for some cereal and bread. 

Louis moves through the rooms as Harry throws his clothes into the washer. He drags his fingers across the walls of each room, trying to imagine Harry living in it. He thinks of Harry strumming his guitar on the couch, eating cereal at 4 in the morning in the kitchen. He can see Harry curled up with a blanket watching Jeopardy. Soon his imagination wanders and he can’t help but wonder if he’s taken anyone back to his flat, if he’s taken Nick back to his flat for something more than a nice lunch. He needs to stop thinking. 

Harry walks in with two mugs of steaming tea and hands one to Louis, Louis accepting it gratefully. He takes one and takes a hesitant sip, immediately breaking out into a grin as he swallows his first mouthful. 

“You remember how I like my tea.” Louis takes another sip, trying to hide his happiness. 

“Yeah. Was a bit nervous I was going to mess it up to be honest. I did remember that you put the milk in before the tea bag though.” Harry shrugs, looking down into his mug. 

They sit in silence for a while, simply sipping their tea. Silence used to be comfortable with Harry, welcomed, easy, now it feels rigid and awkward. Louis breaks the silence. 

“Harry, I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen and please don’t, just don’t say anything until I’m done because I’m really scared and if I stop I don’t think I’ll be able to continue talking again.” 

Harry nods in agreement and takes a sip of his tea before setting it down and turning his full attention to Louis. Louis takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and goes for it. 

“Harry, I love you, I loved you over the summer, I loved you when you left and I still love you. I denied it, suppressed it, not only to you, but to myself. I was scared, I didn’t want to give in to it. I thought that I couldn’t love you because I had hated you for so long, and then I got to know you and it was even more than that. It was also the fact that you were perfect in every way possible, and I was nothing but horrible. I couldn’t stop thinking about what you deserved and that I wouldn’t be able to give you that. I convinced myself that I was horrible for you and that if I let myself be with you it would ruin you.”

Louis took a shaky breath before continuing. 

“I always thought about kissing you, being with you, but I convinced myself that it could only be a dream, a fantasy. So when you told me how you felt and kissed me, for a second I gave in, I gave in because I wanted it so badly. Until I convinced myself yet again that you deserved someone better to kiss you. I thought the best thing to do was to get rid of you, so I said things I didn’t mean and I’ve felt guilty about it ever since. When you walked out of my life I was left empty. I ran away to my mom and avoided all of my friends except for Stan. He ended up convincing me to get you, to win you back, but I was driving and on the radio they said you were with Nick.” 

Tears are streaming down Louis’ face and he attempts to wipe them away as he continues to talk. 

“All I could think about was how mad I was. Mad that you had actually moved on and I hadn’t. So I turned around, drove home and started partying. Zayn left me and transferred to another uni, yelling at me and calling me things the old Zayn never would. The partying got so bad that Liam had to host an intervention and made me move in with him. Then I finally got my life together but it still didn’t feel right, something was still missing. Liam convinced me to go on a date and your song played while we were eating and that’s when I knew, I knew I couldn’t pretend like I didn’t need you. And now I’m here, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being stupid and self-centered and rude and annoying and inconsiderate and I regret everything and I know it may be too late, but I just want you to know that I want you and love you.” 

Harry takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly, eyebrows scrunched together as he thinks about what to respond.

“I don’t know how much you hurt me. I put myself, my feelings out on the line and you stepped all over them. But even when I left I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how much I still loved you. I had every right to hate you again, hate you for hurting me, but all I did was miss you. Nick took me out partying to get my mind off of you, I’m not dating him. I’m not even interested, never was, I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I started writing songs about you, hoping you would hear them, hoping they could tell you what I never could. One night I got drunk and convinced Nick to drive me to your flat. I went in but you weren’t there. We stayed for 3 nights and you never showed up, so we left. I didn’t even consider checking Liam or Niall’s flat.” 

Their tea has gotten cold but Louis doesn’t care, all he can think about is the pain in Harry’s eyes, that he caused that pain. 

“Harry, I need you to know. I need you to know how much you mean to me. You’re my compass, you lead me home. You _are_ home.” 

Suddenly Harry’s lips are on Louis’ and this time Louis doesn’t feel guilty for giving in. He melts into the kiss, fitting together with Harry like they’re made for each other. The kiss is sweet and soft and languid, like they have all the time in the world, because they do. Harry tastes like mint and tea and everything good in life. Louis licks into his mouth, hungry for the taste of him. Harry easily complies, bringing his hands up to tangle into Louis’ hair. Louis is running out of breath, needs to stop to take a breath, but he doesn’t because right now he needs Harry more than air. Harry envelopes him in the smell of strawberry shampoo and comfort and Louis never wants to leave.

Harry is the one that finally pulls away, untangling his hands from around Louis’ neck. 

That’s when Louis sees it. On the edge of Harry’s hand, near his wrist. A small L tattoo. 

Louis grabs Harry’s hand and brings it close to his face as possible, trying to rub it off to make sure it’s real. 

“Do you like it? I got it a month after I left when I realized that I wanted to be yours and I wanted you to know that I was yours, and no one else’s. At first when I moved to London, I was mad at you, I wanted to forget about you. So, I wrote songs about you, angry songs, and I wanted so so badly just to lock myself in a room, be angry at you and do nothing else, but I had come to London for a reason. 

“The only thing stopping me from totally throwing my life away was all the things musically I had to do, meeting, recording, writing, repeat. The system was keeping me in check, but it made me feel horrible. I was seeing Nick every day, and every day he would openly flirt with me, and one night I thought somehow, getting involved with Nick would be the perfect revenge, so I gave in and kissed him. 

“After the kiss I felt so horrible, so filthy, and completely awful. I sat Nick down and told him everything, about you, about why I kissed him, and that I still felt something for you. That’s when we went clubbing. After that night when the clubbing and the kissing and the anger did nothing to lessen my affections, I realized how much I actually love you, that I can’t shake you off.” Harry whispers as Louis delicately kisses the L.

“Harry I never knew you went through that…. I don’t think I can say sorry enough times. And the tattoo… It’s beautiful… Just a little crazy. You know this is permanent right?”

“I want you to be a permanent part of my life.” Harry whispers and then they’re kissing again and Louis thinks that if kissing Harry styles was a class, it would be the only one he’d pass. If kissing Harry Styles was an Olympic sport, Louis would get a gold medal.

They pull away again and Louis is out of breath. Not because of lack of oxygen, but just because he’s amazed. Amazed that he gets to kiss Harry, amazed that Harry wants Louis to kiss him, amazed that Harry is even real.

“I don’t think you know how long I’ve dreamt about being able to do that. How many nights I stayed up imagining what your lips would taste like, feel like, all the places we would kiss.” Louis admitted, pressing his lips against Harry’s once more. 

“I want this. I want us.” Harry murmurs into Louis’ ls. He doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed this many times in one sitting before. He’s not complaining. 

“Does that mean I’m dating a star? Harry Styles and mysterious sexy brunette. I can see the headlines now. I’ve finally achieved my life goal of getting a sugar daddy.” Louis jokes, earning an elbow in the stomach from Harry and an overly dramatic eye roll. 

“In all seriousness though, I know it’s going to take a lot of work for us to get back to where we were. I know it is going to take a lot for you to know that I won’t hurt you again. It’s not going to be easy and it’s going to take some work and dedication, but you’re worth it.” Louis admits honestly. He realizes that they can’t pick up right where they left off, but he’s willing to work to get back there. 

Louis doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to get things back to the way they were with Harry, doesn’t know how successful Harry and him will be as a couple, how long they’ll last.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever hear from Zayn again, doesn’t know if Zayn will ever say he’s sorry, and forgive him. All he knows is; at least they stole the show.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic, I know I enjoyed reading it! Feel free to follow me on twitter: @heartbrokenhaz and again, thank you to all my AMAZING betas: Clair, Leslye, Lauren, Megan, Kiya, and Baeloves1D (name not provided) this fic wouldn't be what it is today without all of you.


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